TASSEL 

OLIVIA  SMITH  CORNELIUS 


.OE  CALIE.,  LIBRABY,  LOS  AHGELES 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

First  published  in  January, 


liia 


BY 

OLIVIA  SMITH  CORNELIUS 


NEW  YORK 

THE  NEALE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
1914 


Copyright,  1914,  by 
THE  NEALE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  PRINCIPALLY  CONCERNING  MYSELF  ...  5 

II  WANTED:  A  STORY 18 

III  A  SEQUEL  TO  THE  QUEER  ADVERTISEMENT  .  35 

IV  A  MURDER 45 

V  I  MEET  THE  DOCTOR'S  DAUGHTER     ...  58 

VI  SUSPICION 68 

VII  THE  RED  TOUPEE 85 

VIII  A  LOVERS'  RENDEZVOUS 99 

IX  A  MATE  TO  THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       .      .      .  107 

X  GONE 122 

XI  PURSUIT 135 

XII  A  LETTER  .      J 151 

XIII  ADDED  COMPLICATIONS 171 

XIV  DOUBTS  AND  WORRIES 184 

XV  A  SERIES  OF  SURPRISES 201 

XVI  EXPLANATIONS 211 

XVII  DOUGLAS  WHITE 227 


21 28731 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

CHAPTER  I 

PRINCIPALLY   CONCERNING   MYSELF 

r  II HE  key-note  to  my  character  is  altruism. 
A  I  tell  you  this  at  the  beginning  so  that 
you  will  not  credit  me  with  a  soft  spot  at  the 
apex  of  my  cranium.  The  sum  total  of  ad- 
venture in  my  life  covered  a  period  of  two 
weeks,  which,  subtracted  from  my  age  at  the 
present  time,  leaves  a  balance  of  thirty-eight 
years,  one  month,  and  twenty-six  days  of  am- 
bitionless  and  loveless  wanderings. 

Shortly  after  my  graduation  from  college  I 
was  persuaded  by  my  uncle,  who  was  my  sole 
relative  and  guardian,  to  take  up  the  study  of 
medicine.  A  few  years  of  medical  training 
sufficed  to  convince  me  that  I  had  made  a  seri- 
ous mistake,  and  that  my  true  vocation  was 
not  medicine  but  literature.  When  informed 
of  my  decision  my  uncle  exhibited  keen  disap- 
pointment at  what  he  termed  my  foolishness, 
and  quite  plainly  intimated  that  he  might  dis- 
inherit me  if  I  chose  to  disregard  his 'wishes, 
which  were  that  I  should  become  an  eminently 


6  THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

renowned  physician.  His  emphasis  of  the 
words  "eminently  renowned"  is  possibly  what 
frightened  me. 

At  any  rate  I  stormed  and  raved  inwardly 
— without  avail — at  the  tyranny  of  his  re- 
quest; but  since  I  was  convinced  that  I  could 
not  change  his  mind  there  was  no  alternative 
but  to  change  my  own.  The  thought  of  his 
past  liberality  in  the  matter  of  expenditures 
while  I  had  been  in  college  was  the  only  reason 
for  any  hesitancy  whatever  upon  my  part.  I 
had  never  earned  a  dollar  in  my  life,  and,  with- 
out my  uncle's  aid,  had  no  practical  means  of 
support,  unless  I  should  follow  a  career  en- 
tirely distasteful  to  me.  This  I  could  not  con- 
template. From  time  to  time  I  had  written 
stories  which  I  submitted  to  different  maga- 
zines, and  their  prompt  rejection  was  sufficient 
proof  to  me  that  money  was  not  easily  made 
in  literature  even  by  one  whose  talents  were 
supreme. 

My  uncle  must  have  divined  my  thoughts 
as  I  said:  "My  dear  Uncle,  do  not  be  de- 
ceived by  my  hesitancy.  It  is  not  that  I  fear 
to  choose,  nor  that  I  am  afraid  to  be  thrown 
upon  my  own  resources  for  support,  nor  that 
I  fear  the  loss  of  your  legacy  to  me.  My  mo- 
tive is  entirely  different,  I  assure  you." 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL  7 

"Speak  up,  boy;  tell  me  your  reason,"  he 
responded  f alteringly,  after  he  had  scrutinized 
me  closely  as  if  secretly  pleased  at  my  manly 
poise,  hitherto  undiscovered.  Had  I  not  al- 
ways conducted  myself  timidly  before  him, — 
of  whose  dominating  personality  I  had  even 
stood  in  awe, — until  now  that  an  ultimatum 
was  placed  before  me  for  the  first  time?  I 
gathered  courage  for  the  ordeal  and  spoke  as 
man  to  man. 

"I  hesitate  because  I  owe  you  so  much,  and 
am  under  obligations  to  you  which  I  fear  I 
can  never  repay."  My  voice  shook  with  emo- 
tion, for  I  realized  how  kindly  he  had  treated 
me  since  the  death  of  my  widowed  mother 
twelve  years  before. 

I  was  twenty-five  and  he  was  sixty.  For 
a  dozen  years  I  had  usurped  his  time  and  his 
money,  and  now,  after  all  his  fatherly  advice 
and  guardianship,  I  had  absolutely  refused  his 
first  and  only  request.  He  had  been  a  lenient 
guardian,  giving  freely  of  the  small  surplus 
that  he  could  spare  in  an  endeavor  to  give  me 
the  best  possible  education.  I  knew  well  that 
a  physician's  diploma  would  be  an  adequate 
means  of  progression,  but  medicine  was  not 
my  calling.  Why  could  I  not  prove  to  the 
old  man  that  I  was  right? 


8  THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

I  stood  humbly  before  him,  just  about  to 
acknowledge  my  inferiority  and  ask  his  par- 
don,— just  about  to  renounce  my  determina- 
tion to  become  an  author, — when  he  said, 
"Clarke,  my  boy,  you  shall  become  a  writer." 

I  gazed  at  my  uncle  spellbound.  Did  I 
hear  aright?  Could  this  man  of  infinite  ca- 
pacity see  that  I  was  a  genius?  Nothing  short 
of  absolute  certainty  of  my  talents  for  creative 
work  could  have  changed  his  determination. 
I  extended  my  hand  in  good  fellowship,  ut- 
tered incoherently  my  thanks,  and  asked  how 
I  could  repay  his  condescension. 

"By  writing  something  the  public  will  buy 
and  appreciate,"  he  replied  enthusiastically. 
"Your  allowance  continues,  Clarke,  and  I  ear- 
nestly hope  that  you  will  succeed." 

It  is  now  thirteen  years  since  this  conversa- 
tion took  place.  I  closed  the  door  of  my 
uncle's  home  that  afternoon  with  a  great  en- 
thusiasm. A  glorious  warmth  of  vitality 
surged  through  me;  I  was  a  Goliath  in 
strength  and  determination.  I  would  make 
good;  I  would  command  attention  from  the 
public  by  sheer  force  of  will.  The  magna- 
nimity of  my  uncle's  character  overwhelmed 
me  and  spurred  me  on.  From  a  tiny  spark 
the  divine  fire  of  creation  leaped  into  a  flame, 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL  9 

only  to  be  quenched  by  death  itself.  A  nobil- 
ity of  purpose,  heretofore  unknown,  arose  in 
my  character,  and  while  life  has  lasted  no 
greater  joy  have  I  experienced  than  the  real- 
ization that  came  to  me  that  day  as  I  walked 
hurriedly  down  the  street  toward  my  rooms  in 
Washington  Square. 

That  night  my  uncle  died.  Heart  failure 
was  given  as  the  cause. 

I  will  not  go  into  the  terrible  depression  his 
demise  brought  upon  me.  An  infinite  void 
opened  and  engulfed  me.  I  was  weighed 
down  with  sorrow  and  could  not  content  my- 
self even  with  my  chosen  vocation,  but  wan- 
dered around  seeking  distraction.  First  to 
Europe,  then  to  Asia, — from  one  hemisphere 
to  the  other  I  went  in  search  of  peace,  con- 
tent, and  quietude.  My  uncle's  legacy  was 
not  large,  but  it  enabled  me  to  travel  some- 
what extensively,  though  not  extravagantly. 
Eight  years  of  wandering  finally  brought  me 
back  to  New  York,  where  I  unexpectedly  met 
an  old  college  friend  and  renewed  my  ambition 
for  creative  work. 

Early  one  evening,  about  five  years  after  I 
had  returned  to  New  York,  I  was  walking 
down  Broadway,  which  was  exceptionally  des- 
olate on  this  Sunday  evening  just  before  dark. 


10         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

I  had  been  writing  all  day  in  my  stuffy  den 
and  had  resolved  to  take  a  little  exercise  be- 
fore retiring  for  the  night.  A  call  from  be- 
hind me  attracted  my  attention,  and  upon 
stopping  and  turning  around  abruptly  I  met 
Walt  Bennett. 

"I  have  just  been  to  your  rooms,"  he  said, 
coming  toward  me  hurriedly.  "It's  a  deu- 
cedly  cold  night  for  you  to  be  out,  Clarke. 
Are  you  hunting  story  material?  If  not,  you 
should  be." 

"Did  it  never  occur  to  you,  Walt  Bennett, 
that  material  hunting  may  be  what  I  am  try- 
ing to  avoid?" 

"Naturally,"  replied  Bennett,  in  a  banter- 
ing tone;  "as  an  editor  I  am  always  looking  for 
stories,  as  an  author  you  are  always  avoiding 
them."  He  laughed  cheerfully.  "You  are 
perverse,  Clarke, — the  antithesis  of  the  ob- 
vious. Be  natural,  man,  even  if  it  does  hurt. 
Now  look  here,"  he  continued,  changing  to  a 
serious  tone,  "I  want  to  talk  to  you,  and 
Broadway  is  not  the  place  for  concentration. 
Let's  go  into  a  cafe,  or  back  to  your  rooms. 
The  latter  is  preferable." 

We  turned  abruptly  and  walked  silently 
toward  my  apartments  in  Washington  Square. 
Entering  the  room  some  ten  minutes  later,  I 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         11 

threw  my  hat  and  coat  upon  the  couch  and  sat 
down  before  the  open  grate,  in  which  the  wood 
fire  sputtered  and  crackled,  spreading  its 
warmth  and  light  throughout  the  darkened 
room. 

"Let's  have  a  little  light  on  the  subject," 
said  Bennett,  as  he  walked  across  the  room  and 
turned  the  electric  switch.  "There,  now; 
that's  better,"  he  continued,  rubbing  his  hands 
together  briskly;  then  he  pulled  a  paper  from 
his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  me  to  read,  saying, 
"There  is  material,  my  boy,  for  an  adventure 
serial." 

I  glanced  at  the  headlines.  "A  Thousand 
Dollars  Stolen  in  Shetland  Suburb,"  I  read 
aloud.  "Nothing  original  about  that,"  was 
my  comment  as  I  handed  the  paper  back  to 
him.  "It  is  a  common-place  occurrence;  that 
kind  of  thing  happens  every  day." 

"That's  true,  Clarke,  too,  but— Well,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  the  magazine  is  up  against  it, 
and  you  will  have  to  help  me  out  with  a  serial." 

"Help  you  out!"  I  cried  dramatically. 
"Good  heavens,  Bennett,  I've  been  doing  noth- 
ing else  for  three  years, — in  fact  ever  since  I 
came  back  from  abroad.  I  have  written  for 
your  magazine  just  one  hundred  and  sixty-five 
stories:  love  stories,  horror  stories,  mystery 


12         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

stories,  detective  stories — all  the  confounded 
trash  I  could  think  of — and  I've  not  received 
a  cent  in  return.  Understand,  I  do  not  be- 
grudge you  this;  but  your  tone  irritates  me 
nevertheless.  I  have  worked  day  and  night 
to  keep  you  from  going  under  and  I'm  becom- 
ing rather  discouraged." 

"Clarke,  you  do  not  understand.  You  are 
not  a  business  man,  you  are  an  author.  Con- 
sequently you  have  never  dealt  in  money." 

"Is  that  irony?"  I  asked. 

"Do  not  misunderstand  me,  Clarke.  Here, 
I'll  put  the  whole  thing  before  you." 

"Don't!  Don't!"  I  said  quickly.  "I  have 
heard  it  over  and  over.  The  sum  total  is  to 
the  effect  that  if  I  don't  write  stories  for  your 
magazine  it  will  fail,  and  you  with  it.  It  is 
deucedly  complimentary  if  you  look  at  it  one 
way,  but  rather  ironical  when  you  look  at  it 
aright.  Other  editors  do  not  take  me  so  se- 
riously." I  laughed  heartily,  noting  my 
friend's  sad  countenance. 

"Now,  Clarke,  I  told  you  to  give  me  five 
years  to  make  good  and  pay  you  a  generous 
amount  for  your  faithful  contributions.  I 
will  do  all  I  have  said.  The  magazine  is  do- 
ing well;  that  is,  I  have  sufficiently  increased 
the  subscriptions  and  advertising  to  hold  my 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         13 

own  with  my  competitors.  But  good  fiction 
is  hard  to  find.  I  must,  as  you  know — " 

"Too  well,"  I  interrupted  flippantly. 

He  paid  no  heed  to  my  interruption,  but 
went  on  at  a  high  tension,  alert  and  opti- 
mistic. Persuasiveness  was  always  his  long 
suit,  altruism  was  mine, — an  excellent  com- 
bination for  the  team  of  editor  and  author  to 
work  with. 

"I  must,  as  you  know,"  he  repeated,  "have 
five  stories  each  issue.  It  is  almost  impossible 
to  find  five  good  ones  out  of  the  hundred  or  so 
submitted  to  us  monthly.  When  I  do  find 
one  suitable  for  publication  the  author  usually 
refuses  to  accept  magazine  stock  in  payment. 
I  cannot  pay  cash,  so  I  must  find  authors  who 
can  not  only  write  well,  but  who  will  accept 
my  magazine  stock  in  exchange  for  their 
work." 

"Yes,  and  you've  watered  it  so  often  that 
I  suppose  you  get  soaking  wet  when  you 
handle  a  certificate."  The  metaphor  missed 
fire,  for  he  gave  no  intimation  that  he  had 
heard. 

"Clarke,  you've  got  to  help  me  out  again. 
I  must  have  an  adventure  serial  of  at  least 
twenty  thousand  words.  That  will  keep  me 
running  for  six  months — in  installments,  you 


14         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

know.  I  can  drop  some  of  the  short  stories 
while  the  serial  is  being  published.  Six 
months  of  freedom  from  worry!  Why,  it 
would  be  heavenly!" 

"For  you?" 

"Yes,  for  us  both.  You  do  not  want  me  to 
fail,  do  you,  Clarke?" 

"No,"  I  drawled;  "I  don't  want  you  to  fail." 

Indeed,  that  was  the  most  serious  thing  that 
could  happen  to  me,  I  began  thinking  as  I 
looked  at  my  friend.  Walt  Bennett  had  been 
my  best  friend  in  college,  and  a  deep  affection 
had  grown  up  between  us  which  had  not  only 
continued  during  our  college  days  but  had 
survived  the  years  of  separation  and  associa- 
tion since.  I  respected  him ;  he  was  in  my  eyes 
the  most  honorable  man  I  had  ever  met ;  mor- 
ally and  intellectually  he  was  the  superior  of 
any  of  my  other  acquaintances.  I  had  sacri- 
ficed my  own  ambitions  by  giving  my  full  time 
and  products  for  his  use.  He  was  a  good- 
looking  fellow,  short  of  stature,  rather  thickly 
set,  an  athlete,  with  strong,  broad  shoulders,  a 
kindly  expression  of  optimism  and  good  fel- 
lowship shining  from  his  clear  gray  eyes.  His 
face  was  in  direct  contrast  to  his  physique.  It 
was  predominantly  feminine ;  a  straightly  chis- 
eled nose,  very  slightly  Roman;  a  mouth  of 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         15 

medium  size  but  not  firm  nor  hard, — indeed  a 
boyish  immaturity  was  partly  revealed  by  the 
curve  of  the  mouth  and  the  general  contour  of 
the  face.  Walt  was  a  man  who  would  never 
grow  old;  he  bore  lightly  his  forty-two  years, 
which  had  held  for  him  much  hard  work  and 
many  adversities. 

His  life  had  been  in  many  respects  similar 
to  my  own.  We  were  both  orphans  when  we 
first  met  as  medical  students  at  the  University. 
His  father,  Dr.  Alfred  Bennett,  a  retired  prac- 
titioner, had  placed  his  two  children, — Gene- 
vieve  and  Walter, — in  a  private  school  near 
New  York,  and  left  for  Europe.  There  he 
had  established  himself  in  Paris.  A  year  later 
he  married  a  beautiful  Parisienne,  and  after- 
ward made  Europe  his  home.  Four  years 
later  he  died,  leaving  the  larger  part  of  his 
fortune  to  his  wife  and  baby.  Walt  and  Vi 
received  fifty  thousand  dollars,  a  part  of  which 
the  former  expended  on  his  medical  educa- 
tion; then  giving  up  the  idea  of  becoming  a 
physician,  he  invested  what  remained  of  his 
legacy  in  a  new  enterprise,  the  Favorite  Maga- 
zine. I  swelled  with  sympathy  as  I  mentally 
contemplated  his  many  outward  manifesta- 
tions of  the  good  that  was  in  him,  and,  know- 
ing fully  his  excellent  qualities  of  heart,  I 


16         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

responded  in  softened  tones  to  his  pleadings 
for  help. 

"I  would  do  anything  for  you,  Walt;  you 
should  know  that.  But  I'm  written  out  at 
present,  old  man.  I  need  a  vacation  to  invig- 
orate my  mind;  it  is  stagnant.  I  can't  think. 
My  imagination  refuses  to  work  at  all.  I 
tried  all  afternoon,  and  you  know  my  rule  is 
never  to  write  on  Sundays.  I  simply  wished 
to  test  my  powers,  and,  as  I  surmised,  I  am 
done  for.  I  can't  think,  much  less  write. 
You  know  the  trouble  with  my  stories  has  al- 
ways been  a  lack  of  verisimilitude  and  vitality, 
— that  lack  in  quality  which  no  editor  will  tol- 
erate. You  are  the  only  one,  so  far,  to  pub- 
lish anything  I  have  written.  I  cannot  write 
from  life,  nor  create  real  stories ;  fanciful  tales 
are  all  I  can  do.  Now  I  am  becoming  so  that 
I  cannot  even  write  that  kind.  I  am  sorry, 
Walt;  but  it  is  true — too  true." 

"That's  just  the  reason  I  pounced  upon  that 
suburban  robbery  affair.  There  is  reality  for 
you.  You  can  simply  mold  your  plot  from 
that.  It  should  make  a  ripping  good  serial." 

"Why  don't  you  try  it  yourself?" 

"Heavens,  man!  You  know  I  can't  write. 
Who  ever  heard  of  an  editor  who  could?  I 
failed  years  ago  because  of  the  same  trouble 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         17 

you  have, — lack  of  verisimilitude.  I  can  write 
facts,  but  fiction — if  I  only  could!"  He 
sighed  despondently. 

"Why,  this  is  last  week's  paper,"  I  said,  run- 
ning my  eyes  over  the  account  of  the  robbery 
again. 

"Yes,  I  thought  of  you  the  minute  I  read  it ; 
placed  it  in  my  desk,  and  then  forgot  all  about 
it  until  last  night.  I'll  leave  it  with  you. 
Study  it  out ;  maybe  it  will  bring  you  an  inspi- 
ration. If  not — Well,  I  have  only  one  hope," 
he  declared,  as  he  began  preparing  to  depart. 

"What  is  that?"  I  asked  anxiously. 

"That  maybe  I  will  come  across  a  good 
story  in  to-morrow's  mail.  A  whole  bushel  of 
material  arrives  on  Mondays.  If  I  can't  find 
one  good  story  in  the  assortment,  for  which 
the  author  will  accept  stock,  I  am  ruined — un- 
less you  can  yet  save  me." 

"I  have  been  a  life-saving  station  long 
enough,"  I  replied  unsympathetically.  "I 
am  thinking  of  resigning  forever." 

"Never,  Clarke,  until  the  Favorite  Maga- 
zine is  a  financial  success." 

"I  think  possibly  the  denouement  will  come 
quicker  if  I  resign  at  once." 

"Don't  you  dare,"  laughed  Walt  from  the 
doorway. 


CHAPTER  II 

WANTED:  A  STORY 

fTIHE  following  morning  the  telephone 
A  rang  while  I  was  dressing.  I  an- 
swered it.  "Come  right  over,"  called  Ben- 
nett's voice;  "I've  got  to  see  you." 

I  could  get  nothing  more  from  him.  I 
asked  him  had  anything  dreadful  happened, 
was  he  sick,  or  had  the  printer  refused  to  issue 
the  magazine.  But  no  intelligent  answer  was 
forthcoming.  I  was  to  come  at  once. 

Dressing  hurriedly,  I  put  on  my  coat  and 
hat  and  went  to  his  office,  with  beating  heart. 
Within  fifteen  minutes  I  was  in  his  private  of- 
fice, confronting  him  breathless  and  bewil- 
dered. He  sat  calmly  at  his  desk  while  I 
stammered,  "The  trouble,  man, — what  is  it?" 

"Why,  it's  nothing  really  serious;  it's  only 
about  a  story.  I've  got  to  have  a  story." 

I  fell  exhausted  into  a  chair,  my  hat  tum- 
bling to  the  floor.  "I  could  brain  you  without 
a  qualm  of  conscience,"  I  ejaculated.  "Do 

you  know  I  have  had  no  breakfast,  the  ther- 

18 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         19 

mometer  registers  ten  below  zero,  and  I  have 
rushed  here  without  my  overcoat,  in  a  panic  of 
fear,  thinking  something  dreadful  had  hap- 
pened to  you?  And  now  you  calmly  ask  me 
for  a  story!  What  is  the  game?  Have  you 
lost  your  reason?" 

"I  am  sorry,  Clarke,"  he  replied;  "but  I  did 
not  want  to  say  over  the  'phone  that  I  wanted 
to  discuss  a  story,  for  I  feared  you  wouldn't 
show  up.  You  see  I  know  you  too  well.  By 
fair  or  foul  means  I  had  to  see  you  this  morn- 
ing." 

"And  here  I  am,"  I  replied.  "Say  it  all 
and  be  done." 

"Look  at  this  pile  of  manuscript, — over  a 
hundred  in  all  and  only  one  I  can  use.  It  is 
a  fifteen-hundred-word  short  story  and  the 
author  wants  a  hundred  dollars  for  it.  The 
price  is  marked  on  the  top.  The  story  is  a 
winner, — the  best  mystery  yarn  I  ever  read, — 
perfect  in  style  and  technique,  but — heavens! 
I  couldn't  pay  half  the  price.  Never  heard  of 
the  author.  A  novice,  I  presume;  but  he'll 
not  remain  long  unknown.  If  I  could  get 
that  story  at  my  price  my  magazine  would  be 
made — but  there's  no  use.  I  can  offer  him 
twenty  dollars  for  it,  but  he'd  never  think  of 
selling  it  for  that  sum." 


20         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"What's  the  name?"  I  asked,  indifferently; 
not  really  caring  to  know,  but  speaking  just 
for  the  sake  of  keeping  up  the  conversation. 

"Douglas  White.  He  gives  no  address. 
It  was  left  here  this  morning  by  a  messenger 
who  said  he  would  call  for  a  decision  in  a  day 
or  so." 

"Why  didn't  you  ask  the  messenger  his  ad- 
dress?" I  asked. 

"I  had  no  reason  then  for  being  interested. 
It  was  afterward,  when  I  had  read  the  manu- 
script, that  I  wanted  to  kick  myself  for  being 
so  stupid.  If  I  could  get  into  communication 
with  him — but  I'll  have  to  wait;  and  in  the 
meantime  I  must  have  a  story."  He  glared 
at  me,  but  I  kept  calm  and  said  nothing. 

"Why  don't  you  write  your  own  story?"  I 
inquired  finally.  "Try  it,  at  least." 

"No ;  it's  impossible,  Clarke.  If  I  had  some 
facts  together,  a  plot  of  some  sort, — but  it  is 
impossible.  I  haven't  the  imagination." 

"Well,  I  can't  help  you,"  I  said  with  de- 
cision. "I'm  in  no  condition  at  present.  I 
think  I  shall  go  away  for  a  rest.  When  I  re- 
turn we  will  talk  the  matter  over." 

"It  will  be  too  late  then,"  replied  Bennett 
sorrowfully,  as  if  all  hope  had  died  within  him. 

"If  I  have  a  relapse  of  imaginative  vigor  I 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         21 

will  let  you  know,"  I  said  as  I  arose  to  go; 
"but  I'm  afraid  there  is  little  hope." 

A  stenographer  brought  in  a  letter  and 
threw  it  upon  Bennett's  desk.  He  glanced 
at  it  carelessly,  then  took  a  paper  knife,  thrust 
it  through  the  envelope,  and  opened  it. 

"It  is  from  Vi,"  he  said,  looking  up  at  me. 
"Poor  Vi,  she's  always  thinking  of  me! 
Listen  to  this,  Clarke: 

"  'Janet  Negley  is  a  wonderful  girl.  I  know  you 
will  like  her,  Walt;  she's  just  your  sort.  She  likes 
bachelors;  says  they're  so  sensible, — past  the  frivolous 
age.  Just  think,  I  have  only  known  her  two  weeks, 
five  days  of  which  I  have  been  visiting  her,  but  it  seems 
as  if  I  had  known  her  all  my  life.  Now  listen,  Walt: 
Her  father  has  some  money  which  he  wishes  to  use  for 
a  certain  purpose.  You  may  be  able  to  get  some  of  it 
for  your  magazine.  There  is  a  secret  about  it  that  I 
can't  explain  in  a  letter.  Will  tell  you  when  I  see  you 
to-night.  I  was  only  invited  for  four  days  and  I  have 
already  been  here  five;  so  don't  fail  to  come  for  me  to- 
night. 

'"Lovingly,  Vi.' 

"Now,  that's  just  my  luck,"  continued  Ben- 
nett, putting  the  letter  on  his  desk.  "I  have 
an  engagement  to-night.  It's  the  first  social 
engagement  I've  had  in  thirty  days,  and  here 
I  must  go  after  Vi  and  bring  her  home.  I'll 
just  have  to  cut  my  evening  in  two,  and  go  out 


22         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

to  Shetland  about  ten  o'clock.     Won't  you  go 
along,  Clarke?" 

"No;  I'm  going  to  rest.  I  will  retire  early 
to-night.  I  have  an  occult  presentiment  that 
I  am  not  well.  I  lack  my  usual  ambition  and 
elasticity." 

"By  Jove!"  exclaimed  Bennett,  thrusting 
his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  producing  the 
pink  note  again,  "I  don't  believe  Vi  gave  the 
address.  No,  sir;  she  hasn't,"  he  continued, 
slowly  reading  the  letter  before  him.  "Now, 
if  that  isn't  characteristic  of  a  woman, — 'Come 
for  me,'  and  then  forget  to  give  the  address!" 

"It's  Shetland  Suburbs,"  I  announced;  "and 
her  friend's  name  is  Janet  Negley.  She  won't 
be  hard  to  find.  Shetland  has  a  small,  a  very 
small,  population.  You  can  inquire.  Proba- 
bly the  first  person  you  meet  will  know  enough 
to  direct  you  to  the  residence." 

"Oh,  I  guess  I'll  find  it  all  right.  Sorry 
you  won't  join  me,  Clarke.  I  notice  Vi  says 
Miss  Janet  is  wonderful,  and  Vi  is  a  wonder- 
ful judge  of  looks.  When  Vi  says  'wonder- 
ful' she  means  glorious,  superb,  beautiful, — a 
combination  of  adjectives  seriously  disturbing 
to  us  bachelors.  You  may  be  sorry  you  didn't 
accompany  me,  Clarke.  Won't  you  change 
your  mind?" 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         23 

"No;  the  desire  for  adventure  has  flown. 
Even  a  beautiful  woman  cannot  tempt  me.  I 
am  a  sick  man,  Walt." 

Indeed,  a  half  hour  later,  as  I  sat  in  a  Sixth 
Avenue  cafe,  munching  dry  toast  and  sipping 
a  cup  of  coffee,  I  felt  that  my  words  to  Ben- 
nett were  true.  I  was  a  sick  man.  My  head 
felt  hot  and  it  ached;  a  feeling  of  exhaustion 
pervaded  me.  A  good  bracing  walk  was  what 
I  needed;  it  might  be  the  means  of  readjusting 
my  tired  nerves.  The  thought  took  such 
hold  upon  me  that  I  hurriedly  finished  my 
breakfast  and  quickly  left  the  restaurant. 

I  walked  vigorously  for  three  hours, 
then  turned  toward  my  rooms.  Entering,  I 
threw  myself  exhausted  upon  the  lounge.  I 
must  have  slept  soundly  for  about  six  hours. 
Upon  awakening  I  glanced  at  my  watch;  it 
indicated  the  hour  of  five.  I  had  had  no 
luncheon;  I  was  not  hungry,  but  I  felt  faint 
and  weak.  Still  I  felt  better  than  I  had  in  the 
morning. 

The  room  was  cold,  and  a  shiver  passed  over 
me.  The  fire  had  died  down  and  was  barely 
flickering ;  a  few  moments  longer  and  it  would 
be  entirely  out.  I  braced  myself  for  the  task 
in  hand,  arose,  knelt  before  the  grate,  and 
worked  for  fifteen  minutes  to  get  a  fire  started. 


24         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

I  was  finally  rewarded;  a  feeble  blaze  started, 
grew  brighter,  and  slowly  the  heat  came  forth, 
making  the  room  quite  comfortable.  I  turned 
up  the  light,  adjusted  my  clothes,  removed  my 
soiled  collar  and  replaced  it  by  a  fresh  one, 
brushed  my  hair,  then  pressed  the  button  for 
my  landlady.  A  knock  came  at  the  door  and 
I  opened  it. 

"Mrs.  Cross,  I  want  you  to  send  the  boy 
out  for  a  sandwich  and  a  cup  of  coffee.  I 
wish  to  eat  in  my  room." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Powell;  but  that  hardly  seems 
sufficient,"  she  remonstrated.  "Can't  I  order 
you  something  more  substantial?" 

"No,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Cross,"  I  replied.  "I 
am  on  a  diet  at  present.  Too  much  food  and 
a  lack  of  exercise  I  believe  is  the  cause  of  my 
not  feeling  up  to  my  usual  self.  So  I  am  try- 
ing abstinence  for  a  few  days." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Powell,"  she  responded, 
turning  and  leaving  the  door. 

I  sat  in  a  rocking-chair  before  the  grate, 
sipping  my  coffee  which  the  boy  had  brought 
in  a  few  minutes  before.  I  wondered  if  it  were 
possible  that  I  could  have  a  fever.  I  felt 
drowsy  again;  even  the  stimulating  black  cof- 
fee had  no  invigorating  effects.  I  replaced 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         25 

the  cup  upon  the  tray,  and  reached  for  the 
evening  paper.  I  glanced  listlessly  over  the 
first  sheet,  then  threw  it  down  and  rested  my 
head  against  the  back  of  the  chair.  I  was  still 
tired,  and  gradually  all  consciousness  passed 
from  me  and  I  again  slept. 

A  loud  knock  at  the  door  awoke  me. 

"Come  in,"  I  called,  yawning  and  stretching 
myself,  and  rising  to  a  sitting  posture. 

A  boy  entered  the  room.  "Oh,  the  tray,"  I 
said.  "There,  boy,  on  the  table." 

He  quickly  passed  from  the  room  and  I 
glanced  at  the  clock.  It  was  after  eight. 

"Well,  really  I  have  had  enough  sleep  for 
one  day,"  I  meditated,  again  stretching  out  my 
hand  for  the  paper. 

I  felt  a  great  deal  better,  and  this  time  I 
read  the  news  with  interest.  Two  columns 
were  about  Roosevelt,  a  half  column  was  about 
Taf t ;  the  other  news  was  of  the  horror  kind, — 
murders,  fires,  suicides,  deaths,  and  such  mat- 
ters. Nothing  very  interesting  had  happened 
while  I  slept  that  afternoon.  True,  there  had 
been  a  robbery,  a  fire,  and  a  murder  within  the 
past  eight  hours ;  but  what  does  that  amount  to 
in  New  York?  Casual  happenings,  scarcely 
of  any  interest  to  a  modern  author. 

I  turned  the  pages  slowly,  reading  obituary 


26         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

notices,  advertisements,  poetry,  jokes,  and 
near  jokes.  Finally  I  glanced  down  the  per- 
sonal column  and  my  eyes  quickly  caught  a 
unique  advertisement.  I  read  it  twice,  placed 
the  paper  on  my  lap,  gazed  steadily  into  the 
fire,  and  meditated ;  then  again  I  picked  up  the 
paper  and  read  over  for  the  third  time  the 
strange  advertisement. 

If  anyone  answering  the  description  given  below  will 
call  this  evening  at  my  home,  I  will  show  him  how  he 
can  honestly  make  ten  thousand  dollars.  Applicants 
must  be  not  more  than  five  feet  and  seven  inches  tall, 
broad,  stocky,  healthy,  and  strong.  Call  this  evening 
at  1456  Rose  Street,  Shetland  Suburbs,  New  York. 

"That  certainly  is  an  attractive  ad.,"  I 
mused,  thoughtfully.  "Whoever  inserted  that 
ad.  will  be  swarmed  with  applicants;  half  of 
New  York  will  be  there.  It  is  probably  some 
sort  of  trap, — possibly  a  scoundrel's  scheme 
to  carry  out  his  designing  plans.  It  would  not 
be  safe  to  answer  that  ad. — still,  why  not? 
The  address  is  given  as  Rose  Street,  Shetland 
Suburbs.  Surely  a  dishonorable  plan  would 
not  be  carried  out  at  a  man's  private  home. 
Shetland  is  a  very  small  suburban  town,  where 
every  one  knows  every  one  else,  and  a  dubious 
undertaking  would  soon  reach  the  ears  of  the 
inhabitants.  It  would  make  a  decided  differ- 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         27 

ence  if  it  were  some  unknown  address  here  in 
New  York  city." 

I  was  almost  tempted  to  answer  the  adver- 
tisement. Bennett  needed  money  for  his  mag- 
azine, and  here  was  an  opportunity  for  me  to 
make  some  money  and  keep  him  going.  How 
the  ten  thousand  was  to  be  earned  was  not 
mentioned.  Very  likely  it  was  some  intricate 
affair  or  the  amount  would  not  be  so  large. 
Even  if  I  answered  the  advertisement  and 
failed  to  earn  the  reward,  I  could  at  least  get 
material  for  a  mystery  yarn  for  Bennett's 
magazine.  I  felt  exhilarated ;  I  was  no  longer 
a  sick  man.  The  eight  hours'  sleep  had  re- 
freshed me,  and  I  felt  all  my  old-time  energy 
and  enthusiasm  returning.  I  felt  that  some 
adventure  of  just  this  kind  was  exactly  what 
I  needed.  I  also  had  the  satisfaction  of  be- 
lieving that  if  I  became  an  applicant  for  the 
ten  thousand  and  failed  to  get  it,  I  would  at 
any  rate  have  learned  something  original  which 
I  could  weave  into  imaginative  material  for 
my  own  purposes.  The  advertisement  was  an 
original  and  daring  one,  and  I  would  not  very 
likely  be  the  sole  applicant  for  the  spoils. 

My  decision  was  made  quickly.  Ten  min- 
utes later  I  was  on  the  street,  walking  briskly 
toward  the  subway.  I  decided  that  I  would 


28         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

ride  out  to  Harlem  and  drop  in  on  Bennett, 
who,  I  recalled,  was  going  out  to  Shetland  that 
evening  to  bring  his  sister  home. 

Alighting  from  the  subway,  I  ascended  the 
steps,  crossed  over  the  street,  and  walked  sev- 
eral blocks  toward  the  private  boarding-house 
where  Bennett  and  his  sister  Vi  lived.  I  ap- 
proached a  row  of  three-story  houses,  built  of 
brown  stone,  and  so  much  alike  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  detect  a  difference  except  by  look- 
ing at  the  number. 

It  was  a  miserably  cold  night.  The  wind 
blew  from  the  north  with  a  bitter  sting.  The 
snow  crunched  under  foot,  and  it  was  all  I 
could  do  to  keep  my  hands  and  ears  warm.  I 
thrust  my  hands  into  my  pockets,  stamped  my 
feet  vigorously  to  keep  the  circulation  going, 
and  walked  forward  at  a  lively  pace  until  I 
stopped  before  a  house  I  thought  was  Ben- 
nett's. It  was  dark,  with  the  exception  of  one 
dim  light  in  the  hall,  and  I  could  not  distin- 
guish the  number  above  the  doorway;  but  I 
knew  that  it  was  one  or  the  other  of  the  two 
houses  before  me,  for  Bennett  lived  just  in 
the  middle  of  the  block. 

Hesitating  no  longer,  I  mounted  the  steps 
quickly  and  rang  the  bell.  An  elderly  woman 
answered  my  ring,  after  a  wait  of  five  minutes, 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         29 

during  which  I  felt  that  my  very  blood  would 
freeze  within  me. 

"Is  Mr.  Bennett  at  home?"  I  asked,  rubbing 
my  hands  together  and  stamping  my  feet  in 
an  endeavor  to  keep  warm. 

"No,"  was  the  curt  response.  "Mr.  Ben- 
nett is  out."  She  quickly  closed  the  door  in 
my  face. 

"A  polite  landlady,"  I  muttered.  "Didn't 
even  have  the  graciousness  to  ask  me  in  to  get 
warm.  Bennett  must  be  easily  pleased.  I 
wouldn't  tolerate  her  a  minute." 

I  descended  the  steps  and  walked  back 
toward  the  subway,  when  it  came  to  me  in  a 
flash  that  Bennett  had  said  he  had  to  keep  an 
engagement  before  he  could  go  to  Shetland. 
What  a  fool  I  had  been  not  to  have  remem- 
bered sooner !  Well,  that  should  not  stop  me ; 
I  would  go  to  Shetland,  regardless  of  the  cir- 
cumstances. I  pulled  out  my  watch  as  I  came 
up  to  the  corner  light  and  saw  that  it  was  eight- 
thirty.  It  was  not  too  late  to  go  to  Shetland; 
I  could  reach  there  about  nine  o'clock. 

A  few  minutes  later  I  was  seated  in  a  Cen- 
tral train.  The  only  other  occupant  of  the 
car  was  a  man  whose  profile  I  could  barely  see 
as  he  glanced  from  time  to  time  through  the 
window;  but  I  noted  that  his  hair  was  red. 


30         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

Pulling  the  newspaper  from  my  pocket,  I 
again  read  the  advertisement,  took  out  my 
notebook,  and  scribbled  the  address  of  the 
house  in  Shetland. 

I  smiled  to  myself  as  I  wondered  what  Ben- 
nett would  say  if  he  knew  I  was  hunting  ma- 
terial. At  least  he  would  be  glad  of  my  re- 
turning enthusiasm,  even  if  my  quest  proved 
uneventful  and  disappointing.  The  thought 
of  the  money  was  what  spurred  me  on.  I 
wanted  it  for  Bennett,  not  for  myself;  I  had 
long  ceased  to  care  for  the  material  things  of 
life. 

My  eight  years  of  wanderings  had  satiated 
me  with  material  pleasure  that  only  money  can 
buy.  I  cared  for  but  one  thing  on  earth, — 
writing.  It  was  my  only  source  of  happiness. 
The  keen  enjoyment  with  which  I  worked  at 
my  creations  excelled  infinitely  any  other  en- 
joyment I  had  ever  known.  I  allowed  Ben- 
nett to  use  my  work  for  his  magazine  without 
charge.  I  lived  to  write,  not  to  sell  or  dispose 
of  my  work.  This  would  have  all  been  dif- 
ferent had  my  uncle  lived  and  given  me  the  in- 
centive of  ambition  and  pride  that  my  char- 
acter so  lacked.  I  had  sufficient  money  for 
my  personal  needs,  and  there  was  nothing  more 
that  I  wished  for. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         31 

I  was  meditating  upon  my  life,  past  and 
present, — not  the  future;  I  had  never  worried 
about  that, — when  the  conductor  called  out 
Shetland  Station.  I  rose  quickly  and  left  the 
car. 

The  station,  a  small  frame  building,  was 
apparently  in  the  uncivilized  wilds;  at  least 
not  a  house  was  to  be  seen.  No  vehicle  was  in 
sight,  so  I  decided  to  set  out  on  foot  for  the 
town,  which  seemed  to  be  about  a  half-mile  dis- 
tant, to  judge  from  a  few  small  lights  that 
could  be  seen  twinkling  in  the  distance. 

I  had  some  difficulty  in  finding  the  right 
house.  After  a  long  walk  I  finally  reached 
the  heart  of  the  town.  The  residential  sec- 
tion was  built  upon  the  segment  of  a  circle, 
from  which  a  half  dozen  streets  radiated  to  the 
little  station  I  had  left.  I  found  Rose  Street 
at  last,  and  walked  up  the  narrow  thoroughfare 
until  I  came  to  the  number  I  was  hunting. 

The  house  was  a  frame  building,  the  least 
pretentious  one  in  the  immediate  surroundings, 
with  two  stories,  the  upper  one  rather  low,  set 
with  a  slanting,  shingled  roof.  On  one  side 
of  the  house  was  a  long  vacant  lot.  A  room 
of  unusual  length  lay  on  that  side  of  the  build- 
ing, extending  some  distance  to  the  rear  of  the 
main  structure.  I  observed  its  exterior  es- 


32         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

pecially  as  I  approached,  the  elongated  side 
attracting  my  attention  first.  A  doctor's  sign 
hung  upon  the  porch ;  evidently  the  long  room 
was  his  office.  Dr.  Talmar  was  the  name.  I 
noticed  two  doors,  one  opening  on  to  the  porch, 
the  other  toward  the  vacant  lot.  A  light  shone 
through  the  glass  door,  on  which  was  inscribed : 

DR.  TALMAR, 
OFFICE  HOURS,  3  TO  4 

I  rang  the  bell  with  hesitation.  The  door 
was  immediately  opened,  and  a  young  girl 
stood  before  me.  A  more  beautiful  woman 
I  had  never  seen.  I  lost  my  poise  somewhat, 
and  stammered  awkwardly,  "I  am  an — an  ap- 
plicant of — for — the  advertisement  in  to- 
night's paper." 

Just  then,  as  I  stood  with  one  foot  upon  the 
step,  a  man  with  red  hair  stood  for  a  moment 
in  the  light,  looked  at  me  inquiringly,  then 
passed  by  me  and  out  into  the  night.  I  had 
never  seen  any  man  resemble  Walt  Bennett  as 
that  man  did.  But  for  the  red  hair,  I  would 
have  sworn  that  it  was  he. 

I  entered  the  room  in  a  daze.  There  were 
six  men  in  this  waiting-room,  sitting  around 
carelessly.  Two  were  reading  magazines;  the 
others  scrutinized  me  impolitely.  The  young 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         33 

girl  had  left.  I  sat,  hat  in  hand,  in  a  maze 
of  indefinable  impressions.  The  room  was 
square,  and  of  ordinary  office  size.  The  house 
was  an  old  one  and  had  evidently  been  recently 
remodeled.  It  had  a  center  hall;  the  room  in 
which  we  sat  must  have  been  originally  in- 
tended for  a  library,  but  had  been  turned  into 
an  office.  Through  glass  doors  I  could  see  a 
music  room  or  parlor. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  young  girl  ap- 
peared again.  She  spoke  to  one  of  the  men. 
They  talked  in  a  low  tone,  but  I  could  hear 
sufficiently  well  to  understand  that  the  doctor 
would  not  see  him, — he  did  not  comply  with 
the  description  given  in  the  advertisement. 
Three  other  applicants  were  dismissed  in  the 
same  manner.  They  reluctantly  left,  mut- 
tering incoherently. 

Then  the  young  girl  beckoned  to  me  to 
proceed  into  the  doctor's  office.  I  was  not 
afraid;  all  hesitancy  had  left  me,  and  I  boldly 
thought  to  myself  that  I  would  gladly  follow 
her  anywhere  she  would  lead.  Love  at  first 
sight  is  supposed,  by  most  learned  men,  to  be  a 
myth,  and  I  myself  had  always  scoffed  at  the 
idea.  Indeed,  I  had  gradually  persuaded  my- 
self that  there  was  no  such  thing  as  love,  that 
an  affection  of  the  kind  was  usually  an  hallu- 


34         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

cination  indulged  in  either  by  very  young,  im- 
mature minds,  or  by  very  old,  senile  ones. 
Yet  one  glance  at  this  frail  girl  had  shattered 
all  my  thirty-five  years'  thought  upon  the  sub- 
ject, and  I  followed  her  into  the  office,  with 
a  beating  heart  and  with  a  sense  of  delight  that 
my  writing  had  never  yet  produced.  She 
closed  the  door  after  me. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  SEQUEL  TO  THE  QUEER  ADVERTISEMENT 

A  MOMENT  later  I  stood  face  to  face 
with  Doctor  Talmar.  He  was  an  old 
man,  at  least  seventy  years  old.  His  white 
hair,  worn  long  at  the  back  and  sides,  had 
become  very  thin  on  top.  His  face,  too, 
was  long  and  thin,  while  deep  crevices  in  the 
cheeks  made  its  contour  seem  much  more 
narrow  than  it  really  was.  A  large  Ro- 
man nose  with  distended  nostrils;  a  mouth 
of  goodly  proportions,  yet  so  sunken  and 
drawn  at  the  corners  that  its  shape  was 
grotesque,  and  large  bulging  eyes  of  a  deep 
black  gave  the  face  an  expression  of  occult 
power,  hypnotic  in  the  extreme.  A  weird,  un- 
holy gleam  of  mystery  held  me  spellbound. 
The  man's  shrunken  figure  and  bent  shoulders 
were  the  least  striking  part  of  his  personality. 
I  became  not  exactly  frightened,  for  I  am  not 
a  coward,  but  sorry  that  I  had  presumed  to 
compete  with  this  strange  and  unseemly  being. 
In  an  instant  my  reticence  had  passed. 

35 


36         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

Doctor  Talmar  spoke,  and  his  voice  carried  the 
sound  of  the  most  kindly  reassurance. 

"Well,  sir,  you  are  an  applicant  for  the  ten 
thousand  dollars,  I  assume." 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  answered,  quickly;  "pro- 
vided- 

The  doctor  interrupted  me  by  saying  with 
decision:  "You  are  the  man  I  want  and  the 
only  one  out  of  the  twelve  applicants  to  whom 
I  will  even  tell  my  story — and  that  without 
inquiring  your  name.  You  are  honest  and 
healthy,  I  suppose;  and  your  age,  about 
thirty?" 

'  Thirty-five,"  I  corrected. 

"Good.     Then,  Mr.—" 

"Powell,"  I  stammered,  with  some  hesita- 
tion. My  first  thought  had  been  to  give  an 
assumed  name;  then,  deciding  that  the  ad- 
venture could  harm  me  in  no  way,  it  seemed 
unnecessary  to  prevaricate. 

"You  are  in  great  need  of  money,  I  as- 
sume, or  you  would  not  be  here." 

I  nodded  assent. 

"Well,"  continued  the  doctor,  "  are  you  will- 
ing to  do  anything  I  say, — anything  honor- 
able, you  understand, — for  the  sum  of  ten 
thousand  dollars,  even  if  my  proposal  involves 
the  question  of  tife  or  death?" 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         37 

He  had  become  perceptibly  excited;  his 
hands  shook  and  his  voice  vibrated  so  that  the 
last  words  were  spoken  in  a  whisper. 

I  was  actually  alarmed,  not  by  what  he  had 
said  so  much  as  by  his  manner  of  saying  it. 
I  scarcely  knew  what  to  reply. 

"Dr.  Talmar,  your  question  is  so  entirely 
hypothetical,"  I  managed  to  say,  at  length, 
"and,  in  fact,  so  startles  me  that  I  cannot  an- 
swer until  I  know  just  exactly  what  you  pro- 
pose. I  cannot  say  what  I  will  or  will  not  do 
until  you  have  put  your  proposition  before 
me." 

The  doctor  arose  from  his  chair,  walked  to 
the  door  and  locked  it;  then  came  back,  and 
sat  facing  me.  Every  vestige  of  emotion  had 
left  his  face;  he  was  now  calm,  although  a 
grayish  color  covered  his  features  and  his  lips 
were  of  an  ashy  hue. 

"My  dear  sir,  it  is  a  long  story,  and  I  will 
cut  out  all  technical  terms  which  you  would 
not  understand,  and  will  be  as  brief  as  pos- 
sible. Two  other  doctors  and  I  have  been 
working  on  the  problem  for  twenty-five  years, 
and  we  feel  now  that  we  have  demonstrated  it 
as  far  as  it  is  possible  with  what  we  have  had 
to  work  with.  It  is  this  that  we  have  dis- 
covered,— that  the  head  of  one  man  may  be 


38         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

placed  upon  another's  body  and  both  men 
live.  This  has  been  proved  by  experimenting 
upon  animals,  and  whatever  can  be  done  along 
surgical  lines  with  animals  can  be  done  even 
more  successfully  with  men.  We  have  taken 
two  sound,  healthy  dogs,  put  them  under  the 
influence  of  an  anesthetic,  then  cut  their  heads 
off  and  transplaced  them  upon  the  two  bodies. 
The  dogs  lived  a  short  time,  until  they  came 
from  under  the  influence  of  the  anesthetic; 
then,  of  course,  not  being  human,  having  no  in- 
tellect, naturally  they  could  not  be  kept  from 
moving.  This  broke  the  stitches  and  caused 
their  instant  death.  Now  a  human  being 
would  act  differently,  knowing  that  his  life 
depended  upon  just  one  thing, — absolute  re- 
pose. This  would  require  several  weeks,  un- 
til the  veins  and  arteries  knit ;  then  the  danger 
would  be  over." 

My  face  must  have  worn  an  expression  of 
mingled  horror  and  surprise  as  I  listened  with 
intense  excitement  to  the  doctor's  story.  Sev- 
eral times  I  opened  my  mouth  to  speak,  but 
each  time  refrained,  afraid  even  to  question  the 
man. 

"Now,  Powell,"  the  doctor  continued 
breathlessly,  "I  want  your  body  for  my  head. 
I  am  willing  to  try  this  experiment  upon  my- 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         39 

self,  for  I  know  it  will  be  a  success.  I  am 
old  of  course, — seventy  years  old, — but  then 
I  am  in  good  health  and  it  is  possible  I  may 
live  twenty  years  longer,  or  even  more.  So, 
you  see,  if  I  am  willing  to  risk  this  operation 
you  should  not  hesitate.  The  other  doctors 
of  whom  I  have  spoken  will  perform  the  op- 
eration, and  I  will  guarantee  it  to  be  a  suc- 
cess, young  man,  a  perfect  success.  Your 
head  will  be  put  upon  my  body,  and  you  will 
then  have  quite  a  few  years  to  enjoy  life  and 
the  luxuries  the  ten  thousand  dollars  will  bring. 
The  young,  good  blood  in  your  body  will  erase 
these  wrinkles  in  my  face.  My  hair  will  turn 
back  to  its  natural  color  and  I  will  live  again 
as  a  young  man  of  thirty-five.  I  don't  care 
to  go  into  it  any  deeper,  for  you  would  not 
understand;  but  now  you  have  an  idea  of 
what  I  want  of  you." 

I  had  listened  intently  to  every  word  he 
had  said.  My  feeling  of  horror  and  fear  had 
fled  as  I  gazed  unflinchingly  into  the  doctor's 
face  as  his  story  progressed.  A  feeling  of  in- 
finite pity  swelled  my  heart  for  the  poor  man 
before  me,  who  was  suffering,  I  felt,  from  a 
mental  failing  not  hard  to  define.  I  had  no 
fear  of  the  man;  he  was  harmless  in  his  fanci- 
ful delusion.  My  trouble  arose  from  the  idea 


40         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

that  I  must  hurt  him  cruelly  in  refusing  his 
proposition;  for,  of  course,  there  was  no  al- 
ternative. 

"If  the  operation  proves  successful,"  con- 
tinued the  doctor,  in  a  hardly  audible  tone,  "it 
means  to  me  a  lease  of  life  for  many  years, 
ambition  gratified, — the  greatest  satisfaction 
in  the  world.  And  it  cannot  fail.  I  will  be 
a  wonder,  a  living  curiosity.  It  will  mark  the 
beginning  of  one  of  the  greatest  advances  the 
world  has  ever  known, — that  is,  life  continued. 
It  means  a  world  without  end.  You  follow 
me?" 

"Yes,  sir;  but  I  don't  care  to  hear  any 
more,"  I  answered  abruptly. 

I  realized  that  I  was  in  a  situation  from 
which  it  might  not  be  easy  to  extricate  myself. 
I  had  decided  that  the  doctor  was  demented, 
and  that  to  terminate  the  conversation  with 
an  abrupt  refusal  to  comply  with  his  proposi- 
tion would  not  be  an  expedient  course  to  pur- 
sue. I  would  have  to  be  lenient  with  him, 
handling  him  and  his  story  with  diplomacy. 
My  one  obsession  was  to  get  away;  but  how 
this  was  to  be  accomplished  with  a  minimum 
hurt  to  the  old  man's  pride  was  a  problem. 
The  whole  conversation  had  lasted  barely  fif- 
teen minutes;  yet  it  seemed  hours  since  I  had 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         41 

first  entered  the  office.  My  mind  worked  rap- 
idly as  I  reached  for  my  hat  on  the  chair  be- 
side me. 

"Dr.  Talmar,"  I  said  gently  but  firmly,  "I 
cannot  accept  your  proposition.  I  am  sorry, 
but—" 

The  old  man  arose  from  his  chair,  into  which 
he  had  fallen,  nearly  exhausted,  after  his 
strenuous  talk. 

"You  will  not  accept!"  he  interrupted,  in  a 
loud,  tense  voice.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had 
spoken  angrily,  and  I  could  see  he  was  losing 
his  equilibrium.  "Not  accept — My  God!  I 
have  told  you  my  whole  secret.  I  am  utterly 
ruined!"  he  wailed  in  a  broken  voice;  then 
dropped  trembling  into  his  chair. 

"Dr.  Talmar,"  I  answered,  reassuringly, 
"your  secret  is  perfectly  safe  with  me,  and  I 
think  I  can  even  help  you." 

At  my  words  his  hand  dropped  from  his 
face  and  he  looked  at  me  closely. 

"Help  me — how?"  he  asked,  quickly. 

"Now,  listen.  I  will  keep  your  secret. 
You  need  have  no  fear  on  that  score.  I  will 
also  try  to  find  some  one  conforming  to  your 
requirements  who  will  accept  your  proposi- 
tion." 

"You  will  help  me!     You  will  help  me!" 


42         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

he  cried,  his  voice  rising  higher  and  higher,  vi- 
brating with  intense  emotion.  "Then  I  am 
not  ruined  as  I  feared,"  he  continued,  as  he 
rose  and  walked  toward  me. 

"No,"  I  answered,  seriously.  "I  will  call 
upon  you  again  in  a  day  or  two  and  acquaint 
you  with  what  success  I  have  had  in  finding 
a  man  of  your  description  who  will  serve  you." 

I  had  turned  to  the  door  as  I  was  talking, 
but  the  doctor  placed  a  detaining  hand  upon 
my  arm  and  said:  "Wait,  wait." 

He  opened  a  drawer,  and  with  trembling 
fingers  drew  out  a  roll  of  bills  and  held  them 
before  my  eyes. 

"Here  are  ten  thousand  dollars  in  good 
bank  notes,"  he  said;  "and  all  your  own,  if  you 
will  accept  them.  Do  they  not  tempt  you?" 

He  had  removed  the  rubber  band  from  the 
roll  and  was  counting  the  bills  excitedly.  I 
stood  facing  him,  gazing  at  his  white  bowed 
head  and  shrunken  form,  which  appeared  un- 
canny in  the  dim  illumination  of  the  room. 
He  was  mumbling  to  himself  as  he  counted  the 
money;  and  suddenly  I  realized  that  a  third 
person  was  watching  us.  A  man's  face  was 
glued  to  the  window  opposite  me.  The  win- 
dow was  partly  raised  and  the  draperies  swung 
lightly  in  the  breeze.  The  face  was  that  of 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         43 

the  red-headed  man  I  had  seen  coming  from 
the  doctor's  office  just  as  I  had  entered. 

But  even  as  I  looked  the  face  vanished. 
Was  it  possible  that  I  too  was  having  halluci- 
nations?— had  I  really  seen  anything?  I  was 
now  becoming  greatly  agitated;  far  more  so 
than  I  had  been  throughout  the  doctor's  hor- 
rible story.  I  must  leave  and  at  once,  I 
thought, — before  I  showed  my  emotion, — for 
the  doctor  must  not  know  that  some  one  else 
had  overheard  the  conversation.  I  had  ac- 
tually begun  to  have  a  liking  for  the  old  man, 
despite  my  belief  in  his  mental  infirmity. 

"No,  Dr.  Talmar,  that  money  does  not 
tempt  me,"  I  finally  responded,  after  I  had 
again  regained  my  poise.  "I  must  be  going 
and  I  will  call  upon  you  again  in  a  day  or  so, 
as  I  have  already  agreed." 

The  doctor  glanced  at  me,  then  stretched 
out  his  thin,  bony  hand  and  bade  me  good-by. 

"I  will  see  you  to  the  door,"  he  said.  "My 
daughter  has  company,  and  has  probably  left 
her  post  for  the  night." 

So  the  beautiful  girl  I  had  seen  as  I  entered 
was  the  daughter  of  this  man.  A  horrible 
thought  and  one  that  made  me  shudder.  The 
waiting-room  was  empty;  evidently  the  other 
men  had  been  dismissed  or  had  become  tired 


44          THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

of  waiting.  I  glanced  toward  the  glass  fold- 
ing-doors as  I  entered  the  room,  in  the  secret 
hope  that  I  might  again  get  a  glimpse  of  the 
young  maid  whose  girlish  beauty  had  so  im- 
pressed me.  There  was  a  white  form  in  the 
room  opposite,  and  I  walked  over  nearer  the 
door,  beside  which  stood  a  cooler.  Feigning 
thirst,  I  drew  a  glass  of  water  and  placed  it 
to  my  lips  while  my  eyes  gazed  searchingly  into 
the  parlor  beyond. 

Seated  on  a  couch  facing  me  was  Walt  Ben- 
nett, in  a  rocker  at  his  side  was  Vi  Bennett, 
and  at  the  piano  sat  the  doctor's  daughter. 
I  gazed  spellbound,  as  if  in  a  mystic  dream, 
while  Bennett's  eyes  met  mine  unflinchingly. 
I  was  sure  that  we  had  recognized  each  other 
simultaneously.  I  turned  abruptly  and  hur- 
ried from  the  house. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  MUBDER 

NEVER  in  all  my  life  have  I  felt  so  like  a 
sneak  as  I  did  that  night  while  walking 
hurriedly  down  Rose  Street.  My  mind  was 
alert,  keen  to  the  realization  of  the  situation; 
but  I  was  greatly  perturbed.  Was  I  not 
surrounded  with  mystery?  My  mind  took  to 
it  naturally,  but  I  was  in  a  perverse  mood,  at 
once  worried  and  hopeful. 

There  was  one  thought  that  seemed  to  pre- 
dominate :  my  friend  was  this  moment  with  the 
doctor's  daughter.  He  knew  her  personally, 
and  I  did  not.  Then  a  question  came  to  my 
mind, — who  was  the  doctor's  daughter? 
Could  it  be  the  girl  Vi  was  visiting,  the  won- 
derful Janet  Negley?  I  began  to  believe  it 
was,  for  was  not  Bennett  to  call  for  Vi  at 
Shetland  that  night?  It  was  a  strange  coin- 
cidence. 

I  had  set  out  in  quest  of  information  and  had 
certainly  received  it  tenfold,  for  with  the  doc- 
tor's story  I  had  lost  hope  of  getting  the  ten 
thousand  for  Bennett's  magazine,  but  I  had 

45 


46         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

accumulated  a  wonderful  amount  of  material 
for  an  adventure  story.  I  was  positive  Janet 
Negley  and  the  doctor's  daughter  were  the 
same,  and  that  she  was  in  reality  his  stepdaugh- 
ter. I  could  easily  find  out  all  about  her  from 
Bennett. 

But  suppose  Bennett  had  not  recognized  me 
through  the  doorway  as  I  had  assumed ;  in  that 
case  it  would  be  better  to  keep  my  secret,  and 
later  surprise  him  with  the  serial  that  I  meant 
to  write.  I  would  then  have  the  satisfaction 
of  surprising  him  completely.  I  could  get  Vi 
to  introduce  me  to  Janet  Negley,  without  tell- 
ing my  adventure  to  Bennett.  I  decided  that 
that  was  the  better  plan,  so  I  thrust  the  mat- 
ter from  me  and  resumed  my  perplexing 
thoughts  concerning  the  doctor  and  his  daugh- 
ter. 

The  doctor,  I  felt,  was  insane,  but  with  a 
harmless  species  of  malady,  possibly  due  to 
advanced  age  and  overwork.  There  was  no 
danger  of  his  carrying  out  his  rejuvenating 
scheme,  for  there  was  no  one  who  would  be 
likely  to  submit  to  the  operation. 

Then  a  feeling  of  exhilaration  stole  over 
me  as  my  thoughts  turned  to  the  doctor's 
daughter.  Her  sweet  girlish  form  and  seduc- 
tive voice  haunted  me.  I  blushed  at  the  recol- 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         47 

lection  of  being  in  her  presence.  I  had 
known  but  few  women  in  my  life,  and  none 
had  ever  stirred  me  as  had  this  slip  of  a  girl 
with  simply  a  glance.  I  was  a  skeptical  old 
bachelor,  hermit-like  in  my  desires,  caring 
neither  for  society  nor  friends,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  those  few  who  had  come  into  my  life 
before  my  character  had  become  fixed.  I  was 
a  student  and  a  scholar,  absorbed  in  intellectual 
pursuits,  caring  not  for  pleasure  nor  pain  just 
so  long  as  it  did  not  interfere  with  my  studious 
mode  of  living.  I  was  in  love,  unquestionably, 
and  at  first  sight. 

It  is  strange  how  the  perplexities  and  mys- 
teries of  life  unfold  themselves,  giving  the  un- 
believer glimpses  of  light  now  and  then,  sim- 
ply to  unbalance  his  own  dogmatic  theories 
and  give  him  less  self-assurance  and  egotism. 
I  had  not  believed  in  love  simply  because  I  was 
so  material  that  I  could  grasp  only  that  which 
I  myself  knew  and  felt.  A  moment  of  light 
had  opened  the  portals,  and  I  glimpsed,  as  in 
a  beautiful  transfiguration,  my  final  awaken- 
ing. 

I  reached  the  station  just  as  a  train  pulled 
in. 

"New  York?"  I  asked  the  porter,  as  he 
placed  a  stool  before  the  steps  of  the  car. 


48         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"Yes,  suh,"  he  replied.  "Step  right  in,  suh." 
I  was  the  only  passenger  from  Shetland. 

Arriving  at  my  rooms  an  hour  later,  I  sat 
down  and  mapped  out  a  chart  of  my  story; 
then  I  wrote  as  rapidly  as  possible  the  tale 
I  have  told  you.  I  told  every  detail,  from 
Bennett's  request  for  a  serial  to  the  queer  ad- 
vertisement and  its  sequel.  I  finished  page 
after  page  of  what  seemed  to  me  the  best  fic- 
tion I  had  ever  written.  I  rose  to  heights  im- 
possible to  describe  in  the  revelation  of  the 
love-light  that  had  just  entered  my  soul.  I 
pictured  my  beautiful  maid  in  wonderful 
words,  a  wave  of  warmth  enveloping  me  as  I 
wrote.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  I 
threw  aside  my  pen  with  the  satisfaction  that 
I  had  completed  the  first  installment  of  the 
best  adventure  story  I  had  ever  written.  I 
fell  exhausted  upon  the  lounge  and  slept 
soundly. 

At  ten  o'clock  I  awoke.  I  would  have  slept 
on  indefinitely  had  I  not  been  startled  by  a 
loud  knock  at  my  door.  I  arose  to  my  feet  in 
a  daze  of  bewilderment.  I  had  slept  in  my 
clothes ;  even  my  collar  was  bent  and  wilted.  I 
must  have  presented  a  forlorn  appearance  as 
I  opened  the  door.  It  was  the  maid  who 
wanted  to  straighten  up  the  room.  I  told  her 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         49 

to  return  in  half  an  hour ;  and  then  I  proceeded 
to  change  my  clothes  and  to  make  myself  pre- 
sentable for  breakfast. 

The  room  was  in  great  disorder.  My  coat 
was  flung  over  the  arm  of  a  chair,  my  hat  lay 
on  the  floor.  Scattered  about  were  sheets  of 
paper  that  brought  me  back  to  my  thoughts 
of  that  previous  night.  It  took  me  ten  min- 
utes or  more  to  arrange  the  jumble  properly. 
I  stopped  several  times  during  my  toilet  to 
read  or  reread  my  creations  on  paper,  but  the 
gnawings  of  hunger  made  me  hurry,  and  I  re- 
luctantly put  the  sheets  in  a  drawer,  which  I 
locked. 

Ten  minutes  later  I  was  sitting  in  a  cafe. 
Having  given  my  order  to  the  waiter,  I  sat 
back  comfortably  in  my  chair  and  surveyed 
the  other  occupants  of  the  room.  A  large  fel- 
low, with  big  thick  hands,  sat  opposite  me  at 
the  next  table.  He  was  reading  the  morning 
paper,  spread  wide  before  him,  his  two  chubby 
hands  holding  each  side  and  his  head  buried 
in  the  center.  I  read  in  large  black  type  a 
sentence  that  made  me  sit  up  in  astonishment. 

I  secured  a  paper  and  again  read: 

"DR.  TALMAR  FOUND 

MURDERED  IN  HIS  HOME 

IN  SHETLAND" 


50         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

My  hands  trembled  so  that  I  could  hardly 
read  the  small  print  that  followed. 

"At  eight  o'clock  this  morning  word  was  received  by 
the  police  that  Dr.  Talmar  had  been  murdered  and 
robbed  of  $10,000  in  notes  and  some  jewelry  belonging 
to  his  stepdaughter.  The  house  was  set  afire  after  the 
crime  had  been  committed.  A  colored  maid  rang  in  the 
alarm  at  seven  o'clock  this  morning.  Upon  the  arrival 
of  the  fire  department  the  blaze  was  extinguished  and 
Dr.  Talmar  was  found  dead  in  his  study,  stabbed  to  the 
heart.  The  knife  lay  on  the  floor  at  his  side. 

"Upon  further  investigation  it  was  discovered  that 
the  money  Dr.  Talmar  kept  in  a  drawer  in  his  study  and 
some  jewelry  belonging  to  Miss  Janet  Negley,  his  step- 
daughter, had  been  taken.  An  immediate  call  for  the 
police  followed.  Sergeant  Holmes  has  made  an  investi- 
gation, confirming  the  theft.  Cowen,  Phillips,  and  other 
officials  pronounce  the  death  of  Dr.  Talmar  a  murder. 
No  clue  can  be  found  concerning  the  identity  of  the 
criminal.  The  entire  police  force  has  been  put  upon 
the  case  and  every  means  at  hand  will  be  made  to  dis- 
cover the  guilty  party. 

"The  doctor's  daughter  can  give  no  reason  for  the 
murder  other  than  robbery.  She  and  her  stepfather 
retired  about  midnight,  but  she  says  he  frequently  could 
not  sleep  and  would  get  up  and  dress  and  go  down  to 
his  study  where  he  would  stay  until  morning. 

"The  case  is  a  grave  one  and  every  effort  will  be  made 
to  find  the  guilty  man.  Miss  Negley  is  prostrated  at 
the  death  of  her  stepfather.  She  was  taken  to  the 
home  of  her  friend,  Miss  Vi  Bennett,  in  the  city,  who 
reports  her  as  still  under  a  physician's  care,  but  doing 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         51 

nicely.     It  would  seem  that  the  doctor  himself  had  no 
intimate  friends,  as  his  body  was  taken  to  the  morgue." 

I  finished  the  article,  then  I  bowed  my  head 
in  my  hands.  I  could  hardly  have  felt  worse 
had  it  been  my  own  father  of  whom  I  had  been 
reading.  Of  course  this  is  a  singular  asser- 
tion, but  when  I  say  that  I  could  not  remember 
my  own  father's  death,  which  occurred  during 
my  early  childhood,  it  will  not  seem  so  exag- 
gerated a  statement.  Though  I  felt  keenly 
the  death  of  Dr.  Talmar  in  view  of  the  man- 
ner of  his  death,  my  real  source  of  anxiety  was 
the  deep  sorrow  which  had  overtaken  and  might 
crush  his  daughter.  It  seemed  that  Janet 
Negley  and  all  that  interested  her  were  of  the 
most  vital  and  intense  interest  to  me. 

I  cannot  describe  the  strange  feeling  that 
pervaded  my  whole  being  and  forewarned  me 
that  the  results  of  Dr.  Talmar's  death  would 
make  a  change  in  my  future.  I  had  always 
had  an  inclination  toward  the  psychic, — an 
inclination  that  was  constantly  battling  for 
supremacy.  Once,  while  I  was  sojourning  in 
India,  I  had  met  a  Hindoo  mystic  of  great 
fame  who  had  discovered  my  hidden  power, 
and  had  asked  to  instruct  me  in  mysticism. 
Under  his  tutelage,  I  became  a  student  of  oc- 


52         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

cult  science,  and  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  so 
was  an  adept  in  mystic  lore.  Never  from  that 
day  to  this  have  I  felt  this  inexplicable  sixth 
sense  more  fully  aroused  than  when  I  read  of 
the  murder  of  Dr.  Talmar. 

I  ate  a  hurried  breakfast,  and  left  the  res- 
taurant with  the  newspaper  in  my  hand. 
Hailing  a  taxicab,  I  jumped  in  and  drove  to 
Bennett's  office.  It  was  eleven  o'clock.  I 
found  Bennett  in  his  private  room  absorbed  in 
writing,  while  a  man  stood  before  his  desk  talk- 
ing in  a  somewhat  anxious  tone.  Bennett  did 
not  look  up  as  I  entered  but  went  on  writing, 
paying  no  attention  to  my  entrance  or  to  the 
man,  who  persistently  talked.  Finally  he 
threw  down  his  pen  and  wheeled  around  in  his 
chair. 

"Hello,  Powell,"  he  said.  Then,  turning  to 
the  stranger  opposite,  he  said  emphatically: 
"I  tell  you  I  don't  know  anything  about  him. 
His  manner  of  procedure  is  certainly  myste- 
rious. He  sent  the  manuscript  by  a  messenger 
ten  days  ago,  giving  no  address  but  saying  he 
would  call  for  my  decision  in  two  days.  He 
asked  a  hundred  dollars  for  the  story.  He 
certainly  had  his  nerve  with  him.  Why,  two 
weeks  is  a  short  time  for  a  decision  in  any 
event.  I  don't  know  anything  about  him,  and 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         53 

I  am  very  busy  at  present.  I  must  talk  to  Mr. 
Powell  here.  Will  see  you  again." 

Bennett  turned  toward  me,  as  if  dismissing 
the  man;  but  he  was  not  so  easily  disposed  of. 

"But,  Mr.  Bennett,  your  story  doesn't  hang 
together  well,"  persisted  the  stranger.  "Here 
you  say  you  received  a  note  from  Douglas 
White  early  this  morning,  saying  he  had  re- 
considered his  former  offer  and  would  give 
you  the  manuscript  gratis.  The  whole  story 
sounds  faked.  'Fess  up ;  who  is  he  and  where 
does  he  live?" 

"Go  and  ask  Frost;  he  published  one  of  his 
stories  in  their  magazine  last  week." 

"I've  been  to  see  him.  He  knows  nothing; 
gave  me  the  same  dope  about  sending  manu- 
script by  messenger  and  giving  no  address.  I 
want  one  of  Douglas  White's  stories;  they're 
fine  and  would  make  our  magazine.  If  I  could 
get  into  communication  with  him  in  some  way 
I'd  offer  him  any  price." 

"He  certainly  can  write,  and  he  is  certainly 
a  novice,"  replied  Bennett.  "Who  ever  heard 
of  an  author's  sending  manuscripts  around  by 
a  messenger,  asking  a  certain  price  for  the 
story,  and  refusing  to  give  any  information 
whatever  as  to  where  or  how  to  communicate 
with  him?" 


54         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"A  mysterious  proceeding,  surely.  Let's 
see  his  note  saying  you  could  have  his  story 
for  nothing.  That  alone  is  mysterious,"  said 
the  stranger. 

"The  note  tells  nothing.  I've  torn  up  or 
misplaced  it,"  said  Bennett,  shuffling  over  the 
mail  on  his  desk.  "At  any  rate  it  was  typed." 

"Poor  business  taste,  to  say  the  least,"  I  in- 
terrupted, for  the  first  time.  Then  I  con- 
tinued, addressing  the  stranger:  "Cut  out 
your  problem.  I'm  in  a  hurry  and  want  to 
talk  to  Bennett," 

"Well,"  he  remarked,  laughing  as  he  turned 
away,  "I  guess  I  can  get  no  information  here." 

As  he  closed  the  door  upon  us  I  thrust  my 
paper  containing  the  account  of  Dr.  Talmar's 
death  upon  Bennett's  desk,  saying,  "What  do 
you  think  about  that?" 

The  expression  of  his  face  changed  at  once, 
and  he  swung  around  in  his  chair,  looking 
at  me  steadily.  "It  is  horrible,  isn't  it?"  he 
asked  quietly.  "But  why  this  unusual  interest, 
Powell?  Things  like  that  happen  every  day." 

"Yes ;  but  not  to  one's  acquaintances,"  I  an- 
swered. "The  papers  say  that  the  doctor's 
daughter  is  a  friend  of  Vi's,  and  that  she  is  now 
at  your  home  under  Vi's  care.  Naturally  I 
would  take  some  interest,  don't  you  think?" 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         55 

Bennett's  manner  was  not  natural.  But 
why?  Why  had  he  said,  "Things  like  that 
happen  every  day,"  when  under  the  circum- 
stances it  would  have  been  natural  for  him  to 
show  more  than  a  passing  interest?  His  re- 
mark had  given  me  the  impression  that  he 
wished  to  mislead  me.  His  actions  were 
strange;  but  I  threw  aside  my  weird  misgiv- 
ings and  questioned  him  frankly. 

"Have  you  been  out  to  the  house  to  see 
the  girl?  And  is  she  seriously  ill?  You  went 
out  for  Vi  last  night,  didn't  you,  and  of  course 
met  this  wonderful  Miss  Negley?" 

"Oh,  yes — yes,"  stammered  Bennett,  awk- 
wardly. "She  is  a  charming  girl,  and  her 
stepfather's  death  is  a  serious  blow  to  her.  I 
was  at  the  house  a  little  over  an  hour  ago.  She 
is  doing  nicely,  the  doctors  say.  She  is  labor- 
ing under  a  nervous  shock,  but  will  gradually 
improve.  Vi  is  devoted  to  her,  you  know,  and 
will  take  good  care  of  her." 

The  conversation  seemed  to  irritate  him,  al- 
though he  tried  to  hide  it  by  seemingly  feigned 
interest  in  the  short,  abrupt  bits  of  information 
he  was  giving  me. 

I  was  perplexed.  I  had  known  Bennett  so 
long  that  we  had  seemed  like  brothers;  yet  a 
change  seemed  to  have  taken  place  overnight. 


56         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

This  I  felt,  but  had  no  real  cause  for  believing 
it  true.  I  tried  to  account  to  myself  for  his 
manner.  Many  things  might  be  taking  up  his 
mind  and  attention  so  that  my  questions  were 
unwelcome.  He  might  have  become  the  con- 
fidant of  Janet  Negley  herself,  and  therefore 
did  not  wish  to  talk  on  the  subject  of  the  mur- 
der of  Dr.  Talmar. 

"Have  you  heard  no  details  as  to  any  pos- 
sible motive  regarding  the  doctor's  death?"  I 
queried,  shifting  my  position  nervously. 

"No;  none  at  all,"  he  responded.  "I  have 
not  talked  with  Miss  Negley  about  her  father. 
Naturally  it  is  a  very  painful  subject  at  pres- 
ent, and  the  doctor  says  she  must  not  be  ques- 
tioned at  all.  You  can  go  out  and  see  Vi,"  he 
said,  turning  toward  his  desk  and  taking  up  his 
pen. 

The  fact  that  Bennett  did  not  wish  to  con- 
tinue the  conversation  was  plain  enough.  For 
the  first  time  in  our  years  of  friendship  I  began 
to  feel  that  we  were  nothing  more  to  each 
other  than  mere  acquaintances.  Something 
had  broken  the  thread  of  confidence,  and  a 
mere  formal  friendliness  remained. 

"Yes,  I'll  drop  out  and  see  Vi,"  I  said,  as  I 
arose  from  my  chair.  "You  are  busy,  so  I  will 
not  detain  you  longer." 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         57 

Genevieve  Bennett  was  tall,  slender,  and 
well-proportioned,  looking  not  unlike  her 
brother  in  general  features.  Her  hair  was 
brown,  of  a  coarse,  wavy  texture,  and  her  eyes 
were  bluish-gray, — an  unusually  good-looking 
woman,  I  thought  again  for  the  hundredth  time 
as  I  looked  into  her  sympathetic  face.  Natur- 
ally calm  and  sedate,  she  seemed  strangely  ex- 
cited as  she  shook  my  hand  nervously. 

"Vi,"  I  explained,  "I  came  out  to  see  if  I 
could  be  of  any  help.  I  read  about  it  in  the 
papers." 

"Oh,  isn't  it  dreadful,  Clarke?  And  poor 
Janet  is  suffering  so.  You  haven't  met  her, 
Clarke;  but  she  is  a  dear  and  I  am  just 
wrapped  up  in  her." 

I  said  nothing  about  my  having  seen  Janet 
Negley  the  night  before.  I  decided  that 
things  were  sufficiently  complicated  as  they 
were.  Would  it  not  excite  needless  suspicion 
if  I  told  of  my  visit  to  the  doctor  in  answer 
to  his  strange  advertisement?  I  resolved  that 
silence  was  golden  and  that,  as  I  could  prove 
nothing  one  way  or  the  other,  it  would  be  wiser 
to  keep  my  secret.  I  could  do  this  success- 
fully, provided  Janet  Negley  did  not  recog- 
nize me  as  one  of  the  applicants  for  the  ten 
thousand  dollars. 


CHAPTER  V 

I  MEET  THE  DOCTOR'S  DAUGHTER 

UfTHELL  me  all  about  it,  Vi,"  I  said, 
JL  as  I  pulled  my  chair  up  nearer  hers. 
"I  am  very  much  interested,  and  maybe 
I  can  be  of  some  help  in  unearthing  the 
mystery.  I  was  in  a  cafe  eating  my 
breakfast  when  I  read  the  startling  news. 
Upon  discovering  that  the  doctor's  daugh- 
ter was  your  friend  Miss  Negley,  of  whom 
I  had  heard  Walt  speak,  I  immediately 
went  to  his  office  and  made  inquiry.  But  he 
was  so  busy  that  he  could  not  give  me  much 
information.  He  asked  me  to  come  out  and 
see  you." 

"I  have  not  heard  the  details  in  full,  Clarke, 
for  Janet  is  in  such  an  over-wrought  condition 
that  I  have  avoided  the  subject  as  much  as 
possible.  The  doctor  insists  that  she  must 
stay  in  bed,  but  I  cannot  get  her  to  do  so.  She 
wanders  about  the  house  moaning  and  crying, 
and  is  very  hysterical." 

"No  wonder,"  I  said.  "She  has  had  a  ter- 
rible shock." 

58 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         59 

"A  telephone  message  from  Mammy  Phyl- 
lis, the  colored  servant  who  had  been  with 
Dr.  Talmar  for  twenty  years,  came  this  morn- 
ing about  eight  o'clock,"  continued  Vi.  "She 
told  me  of  the  tragedy  and  said  that  Janet 
wanted  to  come  and  stay  with  me,  provided  it 
was  convenient.  An  hour  later  I  met  her  at 
the  station  and  brought  her  here  in  a  taxicab. 
This  is  what  I  gather  from  what  she  has  told 
me: 

"After  Walt  and  I  left  the  Talmar  residence 
last  night  at  ten-thirty  Janet  went  straight  to 
bed  and  slept  soundly  until  about  seven  o'clock 
this  morning,  when  she  was  aroused  by  a  great 
commotion  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  house. 
She  had  no  intimation  of  what  it  was  except 
that  something  unusual  was  happening.  She 
arose  and  was  partly  dressed  when  Mammy 
Phyllis  opened  the  front  door  and  hurrying 
up  the  stairs  called  to  her  excitedly:  'Janet! 
Oh,  Miss  Janet!  The  house  is  on  fire!'  Janet 
called  to  her,  'Tell  Father,  Phyllis,  quick.' 
Then  Phyllis  ran  across  to  the  doctor's  room, 
but  he  was  not  there. 

"  'Go  down  to  the  study,  Phyllis,  quick!' 
said  Janet.  'I  am  nearly  dressed  and  will 
meet  you  in  a  moment.' 

"  'Hurry,'  called  Janet,  as  she  ran  down  the 


60 

steps.  'It  is  Father's  quarters  that  are  on 
fire.' 

"The  hall  was  filled  with  smoke.  Upon 
opening  the  door  into  the  doctor's  private 
study  a  gust  of  smoke  poured  forth,  but  Phyllis 
could  see  three  firemen  hending  over  the  body 
of  Dr.  Talmar,  who  lay  apparently  prostrated 
upon  the  floor.  Just  then  Janet  entered. 
They  found  that  Dr.  Talmar  had  not  suc- 
cumbed to  the  smoke  as  they  had  thought,  but 
had  been  killed, — murdered  by  a  knife-wound 
in  the  heart. 

"Janet  fainted  and  Phyllis  carried  her  into 
the  parlor  and  laid  her  upon  the  couch.  The 
firemen  extinguished  the  flames,  but  not  be- 
fore the  back  room,  which  was  the  doctor's 
work-room  and  laboratory,  had  been  partly 
demolished.  Upon  further  investigation  Phyl- 
lis discovered  that  the  murderer  was  also 
a  thief,  and  that  several  rings,  a  bracelet,  and 
a  watch  belonging  to  Janet  were  also  gone. 
The  police  and  the  coroner  were  immediately 
called.  Very  soon  after  that  Phyllis  called 
me  up  by  telephone.  There's  the  whole  story, 
Clarke;  and  isn't  it  dreadful?" 

"The  paper  spoke  of  ten  thousand  dollars 
being  stolen  also.  Is  that  simply  newspaper 
talk?"  I  put  the  question  that  way  for  fear 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         61 

of  arousing  Vi's  suspicions  as  to  my  knowledge 
of  the  money,  and  in  order  not  to  show  my 
surprise  at  her  not  mentioning  the  matter.  It 
was  strange  that  she  had  not  done  so.  Yet, 
in  her  excitement,  it  was  probably  natural  that 
she  had  forgotten  some  of  the  details  of  what 
had  happened. 

Upon  my  mentioning  the  money  her  ex- 
pression changed.  It  was  but  a  fleeting 
change;  still  I  had  seen  it  and  was  worried. 
When  at  last  she  did  speak  her  words  and  man- 
ner were  not  reassuring. 

"Oh,  yes,  the  money,"  she  said  nervously. 
"I  had  forgotten  it.  Phyllis  discovered  its 
loss." 

Vi  turned  toward  the  table  where  stood  a 
vase  of  roses,  and  commenced  to  finger  the 
flowers.  Her  hands  were  not  steady  and  her 
face  was  perturbed ;  she  buried  her  face  in  the 
bouquet,  then  threw  her  head  back  as  if  in- 
haling the  sweet  aroma  of  the  buds. 

"It's  a  horrible  tale,  Clarke,"  she  said  at 
length.  "Don't  let's  talk  of  it  any  more.  It's 
not  a  pleasant  topic  to  dwell  upon,  and  all  our 
talking  can  do  no  good." 

"You  are  right,  Vi.  I  will  not  worry  you 
about  it  again."  I  arose  and  extended  my 
hand.  "Vi,  you  are  a  friend  worth  having, 


62         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

and  Miss  Negley  will  have  good  care  with  you 
as  a  nurse.  When  is  the  funeral  of  Dr.  Tal- 
mar  to  take  place?" 

"At  three  o'clock  to-morrow,  from  here. 
You  will  come,  Clarke?  The  four  of  us  can 
go  in  one  carriage.  There  should  be  two  men 
to  go  with  Janet  and  me.  Walt  has  made  all 
arrangements  for  the  funeral." 

"Yes,  I  will  come,"  I  said,  as  I  turned  to 
leave  the  room. 

And  at  that  moment  standing  in  the  door- 
way facing  me  was  Janet  Negley.  The  deep 
mourning  of  her  dress  brought  out  in  a  start- 
ling contrast  the  milky  whiteness  of  her  skin 
and  the  flaxen  color  of  her  silky  hair,  while  the 
black  seemed  to  deepen  the  tone  of  her  large, 
wistful  brown  eyes  with  their  drooping  lids. 
She  was  but  of  medium  height,  lithe  and  sin- 
uous, and  far  more  beautiful  than  I  had 
thought.  Releasing  the  portieres,  which  she 
had  been  holding  parted,  she  entered  the 
room. 

"Janet,"  said  Vi,  going  to  her  side  hurriedly, 
"you  shouldn't  have  come  downstairs,  but  now 
that  you  are  here  I  want  to  introduce  you  to 
Mr.  Powell,  who  is  Walt's  very  best  friend, 
and  mine,  too." 

A  sweet  smile  met  mine  and  a  small  hand 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         63 

was  extended  timidly.  As  I  held  it  I  felt  a 
sudden  desire  to  take  the  girl  in  my  arms — 
to  crush  her  to  my  heart.  Stupidly  I  stood, 
holding  that  hand,  saying  nothing.  Vi  dis- 
cerned my  embarrassment  and  came  to  my 
rescue. 

"Janet,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Powell  is  a  life- 
long friend  of  ours,  and  wishes  to  be  of  help 
to  you  in  your  trouble.  So  I  shall  leave  you 
to  talk  to  him  while  I  fix  you  some  broth." 
With  that  Vi  left  the  room. 

Immediately  my  confidence  returned,  and  I 
talked  easily  and  naturally  upon  the  subject 
that  I  saw  Janet  wished  to  discuss.  It  gave 
me  confidence  to  think  that  she  was  willing  to 
discuss  her  sorrow  with  me,  who  had  been  a 
total  stranger  until  a  few  moments  ago.  But 
the  feeling  was  entirely  shattered  when  she 
asked  abruptly: 

"Mr.  Powell,  why  did  you  answer  my 
father's  advertisement?" 

Her  manner  was  sweet  and  alluring,  de- 
spite the  sadness  of  her  countenance.  "The 
moment  I  saw  you  just  now  I  knew  you  were 
one  of  the  men  who  called  upon  father  last 
evening." 

I  had  to  tell  her  the  truth ;  it  was  inevitable. 
To  have  lied  then  would  have  been  a  fearful 


64         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

obstacle  in  the  future;  for  already  I  had  be- 
gun to  plan  a  future  of  which  Janet  Negley 
should  always  be  a  part.  So  I  told  her  the 
whole  story,  omitting  nothing,  explaining  my 
desire  to  get  material  for  a  story  so  as  to  help 
Vi's  brother  with  his  magazine. 

"I  was  so  afraid — naturally  I  was  sus- 
picious of  any  one  who  called  upon  father  last 
night,"  she  said  brokenly,  when  I  had  finished 
my  story.  "You  forgive  me — my  doubts?" 

Forgive  her?  I  could  have  laughed  aloud 
in  my  glee.  Why,  I  would  have  forgiven  her 
had  she  thought  I  had  actually  murdered  her 
father. 

"Miss  Negley,"  I  said,  aloud,  "of  course  you 
would  be  suspicious.  The  circumstances  war- 
rant it,  and  I  have  nothing  to  forgive." 

She  smiled  sweetly  and  extended  her  hand. 
"We  will  be  friends,  Mr.  Powell,  I  feel  sure, 
...  Of  course,  you  know  that  Dr.  Tal- 
mar  was  only  my  stepfather." 

I  admitted  that  I  did. 

"So,  of  course,  my  grief  is  not  so  great  as 
if  he  had  been  my  own  father.  I  cared  for 
him;  he  was  a  good,  generous  man;  but  he 
had  been  a  great  trouble  to  me  for  many 
years.  He  had  given  up  his  practice  after 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         65 

saving  the  sum  of  ten  thousand  dollars,  for 
which  he  had  striven  many  years.  He  was  ob- 
sessed with  one  thought,  an  experiment  which 
he  desired  to  make,  and  he  had  accumulated 
this  money  for  that  purpose.  I  have  .known 
for  over  a  year  of  his  mental  trouble,  and  have 
feared  for  the  consequences  of  his  mania,  but  I 
found  that  I  could  do  nothing  to  prevent  the 
carrying  out  of  his  plans.  I  could  not  sleep 
at  night  on  account  of  the  anxiety  that  his 
scheme  for  continuing  life  caused  me.  I  had 
no  living  relative  but  him  and  very  little 
money, — only  an  income  of  about  one  hundred 
dollars  a  month  that  my  mother  left  me  at  her 
death,  fifteen  years  ago.  This  I  used  for 
household  expenses  and  my  clothes.  Father 
had  nothing  but  his  ten  thousand  dollars,  and 
he  would  not  touch  that.  It  may  seem 
strange  to  you  that  I  tell  you  all  this,  when 
we  have  just  met,  but,  naturally,  }rou  should 
hear  my  side  of  the  story  inasmuch  as  you  have 
heard  father's." 

Then,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  tears,    she 
murmured,   "Poor  father!"     An  overwhelm- 
ing longing  to  help  her  took  possession  of  me, 
—a  longing  to  pour  out  the  sympathy  that 
welled  within  me.     However,  this  was  no  time 


66         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

for  a  declaration  of  love.  Would  there  ever 
come  a  time,  and  could  I  wait?  I  had  evi- 
dently lost  my  head  completely. 

"I  am  sorry  I  have  given  way  to  my  feel- 
ings, Mr.  Powell,"  Janet  continued  when  she 
had  become  somewhat  calm.  "You  will  par- 
don me;  my  nerves  are  unstrung.  Father's 
manner  of  death  is  so  horrible.  He  was  so 
good  and  kind  to  me  that  I  feel  I  will  never 
recover  from  the  shock." 

"Possibly  you  are  doing  yourself  great  in- 
jury in  discussing  it  at  all  in  your  present 
state,  Miss  Negley;  and — " 

"No;  I  do  not  feel  that  way  about  it. 
Talking  helps  me.  I  should  die  if  I  could 
not  talk  to  some  one  about  it.  Has  Vi  told 
you  how  we  happened  to  discover  the  crime?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied;  "she  has  told  me  in  detail 
just  what  happened.  Did  your  father  retire 
early,  or  did  he  spend  the  night  in  the  study?" 

She  hesitated  before  answering.  "I — I  do 
not  know.  I  did  not  see  father  after  Vi  and 
her  brother  left.  I — I  did  not  feel  very  well 
—was  greatly  worried  over  the  consequences 
of  father's  advertisement  and  the  many 
strange  men  who  had  applied  that  evening,  so 
I  retired  immediately  after  Vi  left  and  did  not 
see  father  until  the  discovery  of  the  crime." 


THJE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         67 

Vi  came  into  the  room  just  then,  so  I  did 
not  continue  the  subject. 

"Here's  some  nice  beef  tea,  dear,"  said  Vi. 
"You  must  drink  it  while  it  is  hot.  It  will 
help  you;  you  look  so  worn  and  white. 
Doesn't  she,  Clarke?" 

The  interrogation  awoke  me  from  my  dream 
and  I  responded  by  nodding  my  head  in  as- 
sent. A  few  moments  later  I  left  the  house. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SUSPICION 

I  ENTERED  the  grill  room  of  a  crowded 
cafe  where  the  smoke  was  so  thick  that 
one  could  scarcely  see  the  tables.  The  orches- 
tra was  playing  while  a  Spanish  tenor  sang. 
I  could  see  no  unoccupied  place  and  was  about 
to  withdraw  when  the  head  waiter  beckoned  to 
me.  This  was  not  a  place  for  reflection,  I 
thought,  as  I  made  my  way  through  the  differ- 
ent aisles  in  a  mad  endeavor  to  follow  my 
leader.  I  had  eaten  but  little  breakfast;  in 
fact  my  diet  had  been  very  meager  for  several 
days  and  I  was  actually  hungry,  otherwise  I 
should  not  have  decided  to  remain  in  that 
dense,  noisy  room. 

The  table  adjoining  that  to  which  I  was 
taken  was  already  occupied  by  a  man,  whom  I 
recognized  at  once  to  be  the  one  who  had  as- 
sumed such  a  persistent  manner  in  Bennett's 
office  that  morning. 

"Hello,  there,"  said  he.  "Didn't  I  see  you 
in  Bennett's  office  this  morning?" 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         69 

"Yes.  Still  looking  for  Douglas  White?" 
I  asked. 

"Yes,  and  I  can  find  no  trace.  Downs' 
Publishing  House  issued  a  novel  by  him  last 
week — just  found  that  out.  It's  a  winner. 
Just  read  this  review,"  he  said,  handing  me  a 
paper. 

"It's  a  winner,  as  you  say,"  I  responded, 
after  carefully  reading  the  notice. 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  that,"  he  replied 
quickly. 

"Why  don't  you  go  and  see  his  publishers? 
They  can  tell  you  all  you  want  to  know." 

"Haven't  I  been  there?  I  can  get  abso- 
lutely nothing  from  them.  But  I  will  not 
give  up.  If  I  can  get  a  story  from  his  pen  our 
magazine  will  float — you  understand — float." 
The  fellow  became  so  enthusiastic  about  what 
they  would  do  that  I  became  wearied.  I  be- 
gan to  be  sorry  that  I  had  run  across  him 
again. 

I  did  not  wish  to  be  rude,  but  I  tried  to  show 
nim  that  I  was  preoccupied  and  did  not  care 
to  talk.  But  that  made  no  difference  to  him; 
he  rattled  on  incoherently.  I  busied  myself 
with  writing  out  my  order  on  the  small  blank 
pad  before  me  and  paid  no  heed  to  him. 
After  five  minutes  or  so  I  was  greatly  relieved 


70         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

to  find  that  he  had  called  the  waiter  and  was 
about  to  go. 

While  waiting  for  my  luncheon  I  thought 
about  the  strange  happenings  of  the  day.  It 
seemed  that  months  had  passed  since  my  visit 
to  Dr.  Talmar,  the  reading  of  the  account  of 
his  mysterious  murder,  and  the  following  un- 
expected details.  I  had  lived  through  less  than 
twenty-four  hours  of  the  most  conflicting 
thoughts  ever  yet  imagined  in  any  of  my 
wildest  fancies  as  a  fiction  writer.  To  con- 
centrate my  thoughts  in  one  channel  seemed 
impossible.  I  hurried  from  one  idea  to  ar- 
other. 

First  my  morning  talk  with  Bennett  arose 
in  my  mind  and  assumed  huge  proportions. 
His  strange,  incomprehensible  manner  in  re- 
gard to  my  questions  about  the  murder  ex- 
cited my  fanciful  imagination.  I  recalled 
the  red-headed  man  I  had  seen  in  Dr.  Talmar's 
office  the  night  before,  and  the  memory  of  his 
resemblance  to  Bennett  kept  occurring  to  me 
with  persistent  force.  Could  there  possibly 
be  any  mystery  here?  Of  course  not.  Had 
I  not  afterward  seen  Bennett  in  the  parlor 
with  Janet  and  Vi?  Besides,  I  could  think 
of  no  earthly  reason  that  Bennett  would  have 
for  disguising  himself. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         71 

I  dismissed  the  thought  and  resumed  my 
meditations.  This  time  I  thought  of  Janet 
and  of  Vi's  story  of  the  death  of  Dr.Talmar. 
I  turned  over  all  the  facts  in  my  mind,  and 
finally  resolved  to  go  to  Shetland  at  once  and 
see  for  myself  if  I  could  detect  in  any  way  a 
clue  whereby  I  might  eliminate  my  doubts. 
The  whole  affair  was  a  strange  coincidence. 
My  answering  the  advertisement  and  finding 
that  the  house  was  the  same  one  that  Ben- 
nett was  to  visit  in  order  to  bring  Vi  home 
was  startling.  My  seeing  a  red-headed  man 
who  strangely  resembled  Bennett,  and  whose 
face  I  had  later  seen  peering  through  the 
window,  was  mysterious1 — unaccountable.  I 
could  not  solve  the  riddle ;  it  was  the  most  per- 
plexing affair  I  had  ever  tried  to  handle. 

At  last  I  finished  my  meal  and  an  hour  later 
I  was  walking  around  the  yard  at  the  Talmar 
homestead.  Apparently  the  house  was  va- 
cant, and  with  the  exception  of  several  boys 
standing  near,  talking  over  the  crime,  no  one 
was  to  be  seen.  The  room  at  the  rear  of  the 
house  was  in  ruins;  the  roof  had  partly  fallen 
and  the  walls  were  severely  damaged.  I 
glanced  through  a  broken  window  and  saw  that 
the  floor  of  the  room  was  flooded  with  water. 
Broken  glass  bottles  from  the  surround- 


72         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

ing  medical  cabinets  were  heaped  in  piles  upon 
the  floor.  I  walked  around  to  the  rear  of  the 
house,  examining  the  ground  where  the  crys- 
allized  snow  held  the  imprints  of  many  feet. 

A  colored  woman  appeared  on  the  porch, 
carrying  a  pan  of  garbage  to  be  thrown  into 
the  can  that  stood  outside.  Upon  seeing  me 
she  started  as  if  in  fright. 

"You  are  Phyllis  Downs?"  I  asked  kindly 
in  order  to  win  her  confidence,  for  she  seemed 
agitated. 

"Yes,  suh;  dat's  my  name.  But  how'd  you 
know?" 

"I  am  a  personal  friend  of  Miss  Negley  and 
of  her  friend,  Miss  Bennett,"  I  replied. 

"T'ank  de  good  Lawd!  Yuh  ain't  no  de- 
tective, is  yuh?  I'm  skeered  of  'em.  Dere's 
been  mo'n  fifty  here  to-day.  'Em's  pow'ful 
suspicious  men,  an'  I  hain't  no  likin'  for  'em. 
Dey'se  axed  me  more  questions  dan  I'd  ever 
thought  of  in  my  life  befo'." 

"I'm  not  one  of  them,  Phyllis;  and  you  need 
not  be  afraid  of  me,"  I  answered. 

"No,  suh,  I  ain't  now;  but  jist  at  first  my 
heart  t'umped  some.  You  look  gemmen-lack 
to  me,  an'  'case  you's  Miss  Janet's  frien'  I's 
gwine  to  like  yuh.  How  is  Miss  Janet,  po' 
darlin'?  An'  Marse  Talmar  is  gone — gone 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         T3 

for  good."  Phyllis  wiped  her  eyes  with  her 
gingham  apron.  "You  can  come  in,  suh,  an' 
I'll  show  yuh  where  Marse  Talmar  was  kilt. 
I  sho'  won't  stay  here  to-night.  Marse  Tal- 
mar might  come  back  an'  ha'nt  me.  I  am' 
gwine  take  no  chances.  No,  suh;  dis  here  nig- 
ger's too  smart  for  dat."  She  rambled  on,  and 
I  paid  little  attention  to  her  words,  as  I  fol- 
lowed her  into  the  room  where  she  said  her 
master  had  been  murdered. 

The  room  looked  about  the  same  as  it  had 
the  previous  night  when  I  talked  with  the 
doctor,  except  that  the  wall  was  scorched  at 
the  rear  and  the  carpet  was  burned  in  one 
corner  and  wet  after  the  work  of  the  firemen. 

"Dere,  suh,  is  de  ezac'  spot  where  he  was 
found,"  said  Phyllis,  pointing  to  the  floor  at 
the  side  of  the  desk,  which  stood  in  the  center 
of  the  room.  The  spot  was  saturated  with 
blood.  "One  of  de  'tectives  took  de  knife  dat 
kilt  'im.  He  kep'  it  alms  on  de  table  dar. 
He  called  it  a  dissection  knife — whatever  dat 
is." 

I  thought  I  would  question  the  negress  and 
possibly  she,  in  her  naive  way,  might  tell  me 
something  that  would  unravel  the  mystery. 
"How  did  it  happen,  Phyllis?  Do  you  know 
anything  about  it?" 


74         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"No,  suh;  how'd  yuh  'spect  dis  'ere  nigger 
to  know  anyt'ing?  I  war'  asleep  in  yonder 
room,  an',  t'ank  de  good  Lawd,  I  didn't  know 
any  fracas  war'  gwine  on.  I'd  ha'  ben  skeered 
sick.  I  ain'  no  cowherd,  but — ' 

"And  you  didn't  hear  anything  in  the  night, 
Phyllis?  Weird  sounds,  nor  talking,  nor 
shuffling  of  feet,  nor  anything  like  that?" 

She  came  up  to  me  softly  and  placed  her 
fat  black  hand  upon  my  arm  detainingly 
while  her  voice  sank  to  a  whisper  as  she  said: 
"I  did  heah  sumpin',  but  it  doan'  have  nothin' 
to  do  wid  de  murder.  I  ain'  tole  dis  to  no- 
body yet,  an'  ain'  gwine  to ;  but  you'se  a  f rien' 
of  Miss  Janet  an'  doan'  count.  Dem  officers 
an'  'tectives  is  awful  'spicious  an'  I  ain'  tellin' 
'em  nothin.'  Dis  here  nigger  ain'  wantin'  to 
git  in  no  trouble.  I's  been  a  slave  an'  I  knows 
w'at  white  men's  questions  spell, — trouble,  I 
tell  yuh,  trouble.  Phyllis  ain'  huntin'  no  trou- 
ble, I  want  yuh  to  know." 

"Go  on,  Phyllis;  I  will  not  repeat  a  word 
you  say.  If  it  is  a  secret  I'll  keep  it." 

"It  ain'  jist  ezac'ly  a  secret,  but  yuh  knows 
Miss  Janet  ain'  jist  de  kin'  what  likes  folks  to 
meddle  wif  her  'fairs.  An'  dis  is  her  bus'ness. 
I  woked  las'  night  an'  I  heard  talkin'  in  dis  'ere 
room.  It  war'  goin'  on  near  mornin,'  an  Miss 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         75 

Janet  war'  quarrelin'  wid  Marse  Talmar.  He 
war'  angry  an'  talked  loud  an'  mean.  My 
room  is  right  here,"  she  continued,  tapping  the 
wall  at  the  left,  "in  'tween  de  back  hall  an' 
Marse  Talmar's  laboratory.  De  walls  is  thin 
an'  I  could  hear  pretty  good,  but  not  allsom- 
ever.  Miss  Janet  war'  quarrelin'  wid  her 
father  'bout  money  an'  a  'tisement  w'at  she 
says  he  oughtn't  to  put  in  de  paper.  I  doan' 
pay  much  'tenshun,  an'  in  liT  w'ile  goes  ter 
sleep  an'  doan'  wake  up  till  neah  seben  'clock 
dis  mawnin',  den  sot  up  in  de  bed,  smellin' 
smoke.  Den  I  dressed  purty  quick  an'  foun' 
dat  de  house  war'  afire." 

"What  time  did  you  say  you  heard  Miss 
Janet  and  her  father  talking?"  I  asked  anx- 
iously. 

"I  doan'  know.  It  war'  sho'  late,  kase  I 
war'  sleepin'  fer  a  good  bit.  It  war'  long  ar- 
ter  Miss  Bennett  an'  her  brother  was  gone,  fer 
I  doan'  go  to  bed  till  dey  lef '." 

The  negro's  story  and  Janet's  did  not  cor- 
respond. Janet  had  said  that  she  had  not 
seen  her  father  that  night  after  Bennett  and 
his  sister  had  left.  The  conflicting  stories  up- 
set me;  and  I  questioned  the  negro  more 
closely,  but  she  strenuously  averred  that  her 
account  was  the  truth. 


76         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

I  examined  the  room  minutely  before  I 
again  asked  Phyllis  a  question.  "Did  the  offi- 
cers find  anything  in  the  way  of  clues,  Phyllis? 
Did  the  murderer  come  in  at  the  door  or  win- 
dow? Did  he  leave  nothing  behind?" 

"Yas,  suh,  de  knife  war'  a-lyin'  on  de  flo' 
'side  de  body.  Dem  orficers  tooken  it.  Wen 
I  rush'  into  de  room  an'  foun'  de  firemen 
bendin'  over  mah  marster,  I  jist  kneel  down 
'side  'im  'an  pat  his  col'  ban',  cryin'  'sif  mah  po 
ole  heart  would  break.  'Tween  his  fingers 
war'  dis."  Phyllis  produced  from  her  pocket 
a  small  tassel  of  Persian  design  which  she 
placed  in  my  outstretched  palm.  The  tassel 
was  about  three  inches  long,  woven  in  vari-col- 
ored  silks, — red,  black,  gold,  blue,  and  yellow, 
—a  mixture  of  brilliant  hues. 

"Why  didn't  you  give  this  to  the  officers, 
Phyllis?"  I  asked,  somewhat  sternly. 

The  negro  became  excited  and  stammered 
awkwardly.  "I  doan'  know.  I  doan'  t'ink 
'bout  dat — I  put  it  in  mah  pocket  an'  den  fer- 
gits  all  'bout  it." 

"You  can  give  me  the  tassel,  Phyllis;  and 
I  want  to  tell  you  something.  If  you  don't 
want  to  get  into  trouble  with  these  officers, 
don't  tell  them  anything  about  finding  this 
tassel.  If  you  do,"  I  said  quite  severely,  "you 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         77 

will  be  in  great  danger — you  understand? — 
danger.  Also  do  not  repeat  to  any  one — un- 
derstand me — anything  you  have  told  me 
about  Miss  Janet's  quarreling  with  her  father. 
Now,  I  warn  you,  Phyllis.  Keep  a  close 
mouth  and  say  nothing.  Forget  what  you 
have  told  me." 

"Is  it  so  dreffel,  Marse  Powell?"  The  ne- 
gress  looked  scared. 

"Yes,  dreadful  for  you  if  you  tell  it,"  I  an- 
swered, placing  the  tassel  in  my  pocket. 
"Don't  tell  any  one  that  you  saw  me  or  talked 
to  me.  This,  too,  must  be  kept  a  secret  be- 
tween you  and  me." 

"I  ain'  gwine  to  tell  nothin'.  Dis  here  nig- 
ger ain'  lookin'  fer  trouble.  I'll  keep  mum, 
sure  'nough." 

I  felt  that  Phyllis  meant  what  she  said,  and 
that  I  had  frightened  her  sufficiently  to  rely 
upon  her  silence.  I  turned,  put  a  dollar  bill 
in  her  hand,  and  left. 

My  mind  was  so  preoccupied  with  the  mys- 
terious happenings  of  the  day  that  I  have  no 
recollection  of  walking  to  the  station  at  Shet- 
land nor  of  boarding  a  train  for  New  York. 
I  recall  showing  my  ticket  to  the  conductor, 
but  that  is  all.  I  was  mentally  drunk;  my 
mind  was  so  stimulated  with  love,  mystery,  and 


78         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

crime  that  all  traces  of  sanity  had  fled.  I  was 
in  a  veritable  whirl  of  emotions,  and  not  until 
I  reached  my  room  at  six  o'clock  did  I  collect 
my  wits  sufficiently  to  take  the  subject  up 
coherently. 

There  was  a  bright  fire  blazing  in  the 
grate.  I  pulled  up  a  chair  and  began  to  un- 
ravel the  tangle  in  my  mind.  All  at  once  I 
seemed  to  see  things  clearly,  and  I  began  to 
weigh  the  pros  and  the  cons  in  a  calm  manner. 
First,  why  should  Janet  Negley  tell  me  an 
untruth?  Why  did  Bennett  act  so  strangely? 
Vi  had  also  acted  mysteriously.  I  thought  of 
her  halting  manner  and  nervousness  when  I 
recalled  the  stolen  money.  She  had  not 
spoken  of  it  in  telling  me  the  story.  That 
alone  was  not  of  any  consequence,  but  her 
manner  was.  She  had  certainly  acted  very 
strangely. 

The  more  I  turned  and  twisted  things  the 
less  I  found  that  was  of  real  importance.  I 
had  let  my  imagination  run  riot,  and  I  con- 
cluded after  an  hour's  reflection  that  I  was 
simply  building  my  own  mystery  without 
foundations.  Many  things  of  a  purely  per- 
sonal nature  could  account  for  such  queer  ac- 
tions. They  did  not  necessarily  point  to  the 
murder  of  Dr.  Talmar.  I  resolved  to  think 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         79 

no  more  of  the  affair,  and  to  let  it  work  out  its 
own  course  naturally. 

I  found  that  this  was  hard  for  me  to  do. 
What  I  had  heard  from  Janet  and  Phyllis 
worried  me.  Could  Phyllis  be  wrong  and  had 
she  dreamed  that  she  had  heard  Janet  quar- 
reling with  her  father?  It  was  very  possible, 
and  seemed  probable.  Negroes,  I  recalled, 
were  susceptible  to  phantasies,  and  this  might 
have  been  simply  a  fancy  or  nightmare  of 
Phyllis's.  I  decided  to  drop  that  part  of  the 
matter  from  my  mind. 

Try  as  I  would,  I  could  not  keep  from 
thinking  of  the  Persian  tassel.  It  was  a  tan- 
gible reality  that  no  power  of  imagination  could 
dispel.  I  turned  the  silken  object  in  my  palm, 
examining  carefully  its  texture,  workmanship, 
and  size.  Could  it  have  belonged  to  a  rug  or 
to  a  portiere  in  the  doctor's  office?  I  could 
not  recall  having  seen  either  article  in  his 
study.  The  floor  was  carpeted,  but  there  were 
no  rugs  and  there  were  no  portieres  at  the 
doors.  The  two  long  tables  were  not  covered 
and  a  blotting-pad  protected  the  surface  of  the 
writing-desk  in  the  corner.  The  curtains  at 
the  window  were  of  white  linen.  The  tassel 
did  not  belong  in  the  doctor's  study. 

Phyllis  had  found  it  in  the  doctor's  hand. 


80         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

This  thought  frightened  me,  for  it  seemed  to 
make  certain  the  fact  that  a  woman  had  been 
connected  with  the  murder  of  Dr.  Talmar.  I 
had  known  from  the  first  that  the  tassel  was  a 
woman's  adornment.  I  had  tried  hard  to 
avoid  the  thought  and  had  endeavored  to  per- 
suade myself  in  every  way  that  the  tassel  be- 
longed upon  some  household  article  or  decora- 
tion, but  without  avail. 

I  felt  that  if  I  thought  any  more  about  the 
murder  I  should  lose  my  mind.  Rising 
abruptly,  I  threw  off  my  coat,  seated  myself 
at  my  desk,  and  began  to  write.  At  seven 
o'clock  the  following  morning  I  had  finished 
the  second  installment  of  my  story.  The 
thoughts  that  had  baffled  me  all  day  had  been 
put  upon  paper  in  the  form  of  a  story. 

As  I  reread  the  story,  I  became  even  less 
sure  of  my  sanity,  for  unconsciously  I  had 
emphasized  my  doubts  of  the  hero, — who  was 
Bennett, — of  his  sister,  and  of  Janet  Negley. 
I  thought  at  first  I  would  tear  it  up ;  but,  upon 
reflection,  I  decided  to  keep  it.  It  was  simply 
fiction,  taken  partly  from  facts  and  partly 
from  my  poor  deluded  brain ;  but  I  felt  that  it 
was  a  good  story,  thrilling  in  the  extreme,  and 
I  was  sure  that  its  publication  would  add  to 
my  fame  as  an  author. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         81 

I  had  not  eaten  anything  since  noon  of  the 
preceding  day;  yet  I  was  not  hungry.  Nor 
was  I  tired  after  a  whole  night's  loss  of  sleep 
in  the  creation  of  my  story.  I  was  living  at 
high  tension,  and  my  ambition  soared  and  my 
enthusiasm  grew  more  and  more  ardent  as  I 
thought  of  my  love,  whose  pale,  sweet  face 
persisted  in  coming  between  me  and  my  work. 
I  had  an  incentive  now  for  literary  composition 
far  greater  than  had  been  my  altruistic  friend- 
ship for  Bennett.  I  had  been  content  for 
years  to  write  for  him  alone,  with  no  demand 
for  remuneration ;  but  now  a  change  had  taken 
place.  Now  I  wanted  to  write  for  pay  and 
for  fame,  so  as  to  become  desirable  in  the  eyes 
of  the  woman  I  loved.  The  incentive  rose 
higher  and  higher,  and  I  became  obsessed  with 
one  idea, — the  idea  that  I  had  once  before  felt 
was  supreme,  and  that  was  when  my  uncle 
had  said,  "Clarke,  you  shall  become  a  writer." 
I  felt  the  same  exhilaration  and  happiness 
now  that  I  had  had  for  so  short  a  time  so  many 
years  ago.  I  had  renewed  my  youth  and  my 
enthusiasm,  and  Janet  Negley  was  responsible 
for  it  all. 

After  ringing  the  bell  for  my  landlady,  and 
giving  instructions  for  my  breakfast  to  be 
brought  to  my  room,  I  sat  down  at  my  desk 


82         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

and  wrote  out  a  synopsis  of  my  story  as  far 
as  I  had  gone  into  it.  Folding  the  written 
sheets,  I  put  them  in  my  pocket,  then  went  to 
the  telephone,  called  up  the  editor  of  Ham- 
mond's Magazine,  and  made  an  appointment 
with  him  for  five  o'clock  that  afternoon,  to  dis- 
cuss my  story.  I  had  decided  to  submit  it  to 
him  for  the  reason  that  his  magazine  gave  the 
highest  literary  reputation  to  its  contributors 
as  well  as  considerable  remuneration  for  ac- 
cepted material. 

A  waiter  arrived  with  my  tray  of  food  and 
I  ate  a  substantial  meal  for  the  first  time  in 
thirty-six  hours.  Then  I  busied  myself  again 
at  my  desk,  opening  letters,  circulars,  and  bills. 
I  opened  a  magazine,  one  of  many  that  I  sub- 
scribed to  annually,  and  ran  through  it  rapidly. 
It  was  Hammond's  Magazine,  and  I  read  its 
contents  more  closely  in  order  to  acquaint  my- 
self with  the  specific  kind  of  material  that  its 
editors  now  favored.  The  greater  part  of  the 
fiction  was  written  by  well-known  authors  of 
great  prominence  and  popularity.  There  was 
an  adventure  serial,  with  beautiful  illustra- 
tions, which  were  its  most  meritorious  part. 
The  story  was  not  near  so  good  as  mine,  and 
I  felt  more  than  ever  assured  that  mine  would 
meet  with  Steve  Moultrie's  approval.  Moul- 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         83 

trie  was  the  editor  of  Hammond's  Magazine. 

I  looked  through  the  magazine  and  came 
upon  a  story  by  Douglas  White.  I  had  little 
interest  in  Douglas  White,  if  any  at  all;  but 
I  had  renewed  my  literary  enthusiasm  to  such 
an  extent  that  I  was  now  curious  to  see  why 
his  creations  had  caused  so  much  comment  and 
were  in  such  demand  by  magazine  editors.  I 
would  read  the  story  and  find  wherein  lay  his 
secret  power. 

Judging  from  its  title,  it  was  a  love  story 
of  modern  times.  The  first  paragraph  stimu- 
lated my  interest,  so  I  sat  back  in  my  chair 
and  read  the  story  through.  It  was  undoubt- 
edly a  work  of  genius,  for  such  perfection  of 
style  and  craftsmanship  I  have  never  found 
except  in  the  work  of  masters.  The  story 
was  original  in  plot  and  superbly  handled.  A 
great  desire  to  know  the  creator  of  such  a  story 
was  my  first  thought. 

The  man  was  an  idealist  and  a  scholar. 
Here  was  genius  displayed  in  all  its  divinity, 
and  my  own  poor  attempts  seemed  worthless 
in  my  ejres.  Whoever  Douglas  White  was  he 
had  made  a  friend, — one  whose  interest  and 
loyalty  would  last.  I  too  would  join  the  fra- 
ternity of  pursuers  and  lend  an  enthusiastic 
ear  whenever  I  heard  his  name  mentioned. 


84         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

I  tossed  the  magazine  upon  the  desk  and 
arose  to  my  feet  as  some  one  knocked  at  the 
door. 

"No;  there  is  no  need  to  make  the  bed  nor 
straighten  the  room,"  I  said  to  the  maid  who 
stood  before  me.  "I  did  not  disturb  the  bed 
last  night  and  the  room  need  not  be  cleared 
at  present;  but  you  may  remove  the  tray." 

Turning  the  alarm  of  my  clock  to  the  hour 
of  twelve-thirty,  I  put  it  upon  the  table  by  my 
desk  and  threw  myself  upon  the  bed  and  slept. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  BED  TOUPEE 

MY  alarm  clock  awakened  me  on  schedule 
time,  and  I  went  at  once  to  the  Bennett 
home.  The  weather  had  taken  a  sudden  turn 
and  was  much  warmer  than  on  the  preceding 
day.  The  sun  shone  brightly  and  the  snow 
had  melted  so  that  the  pavements  were  a  slush 
of  water  and  ice.  It  was  a  day  in  late  Feb- 
ruary, and  I  felt  that  this  sudden  change  of 
temperature  was  an  indication  that  an  early 
spring  was  at  hand. 

The  funeral  services  for  Dr.  Talmar  were 
brief.  Later  as  we  drove  to  the  cemetery  I 
noticed  how  quiet  and  preoccupied  Bennett 
was,  as  were  also  the  girls,  who  sat  opposite  us 
in  the  closed  carriage. 

Upon  our  return  I  spoke  a  few  words  of 
condolence  to  Janet  and  took  my  departure. 
She  had  appeared  calm  and  self-possessed 
throughout  the  services,  but  her  sad,  sweet 
countenance  thrilled  me,  and  I  longed  to  take 
her  in  my  arms  and  comfort  her.  I  had  to 

85 


86         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

check  myself  when  I  was  with  her,  for  my 
love  overpowered  my  sense  of  fitness.  I  knew 
that  if  I  wished  to  pursue  a  sensible  course 
in  my  wooing  I  must  not  be  too  eager.  To 
declare  my  love  at  such  a  time  and  after  so 
brief  an  acquaintance  was  out  of  the  question. 

I  kept  my  appointment  with  the  editor  of 
Hammond's  Magazine  and  handed  to  him  the 
synopsis  of  my  story. 

"Read  it  carefully,"  I  said,  "and  tell  me 
what  you  think  of  it.  Don't  be  afraid  to  tell 
me  the  truth.  It  is  the  best  thing  I  have  ever 
done.  Still,  I  may  have  overrated  its  merit." 

I  busied  myself  with  a  copy  of  the  magazine 
until  he  replied. 

"It's  splendid,"  he  declared.  "At  least  it 
has  every  promise.  The  plot  is  original  and 
most  intricate." 

"I  have  already  written  two-thirds  of  it.  I 
will  send  that  much  over  by  a  messenger  at 
once  if  you  will  promise  me  a  quick  decision. 
The  manuscript  is  in  my  handwriting;  I 
haven't  had  time  to  have  it  typed.  There  is 
very  little  correction  or  revision  to  be  done." 

"That's  satisfactory,  Mr.  Powell,"  he  said. 
"Send  the  manuscript  over  before  six  o'clock, 
and  I  will  take  it  home  with  me  to-night, 
and  give  you  my  decision  to-morrow.  The 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         87 

synopsis  gives  unusual  promise  and  I  feel  that 
I  will  be  able  to  decide  quickly.  Now  about 
the  price.  What  do  you  want  for  the  story?" 

"Your  usual  rates  will  be  satisfactory,"  I 
replied.  "But  I  want  it  published  in  your 
next  issue." 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  promise  that,  Mr. 
Powell.  Everything  has  been  planned  and  is 
now  in  the  hands  of  the  printer.  But,  wait, 
let  me  see— "  He  took  a  large  book  from  one 
of  the  desk  drawers  and  opened  it,  running 
his  finger  down  the  written  columns;  then 
closed  it  abruptly.  "If  we  accept  this  story 
I  may  be  able  to  get  it  in  this  issue.  I  will 
do  what  I  can.  It  might  be  possible  to  drop 
one  of  the  short  stories  and  make  a  place  for 
you.  I'll  see  if  that  can  be  arranged.  You 
have  done  some  splendid  work  for  the  Favorite 
Magazine  in  the  past,  Mr.  Powell,  and  I  am 
interested  in  your  career.  I  understood  you 
were  under  a  contract  to  write  only  for  Mr. 
Bennett." 

"Not  exactly,"  I  answered. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  We  may  possibly  be 
able  to  work  together."  His  attitude  was  re- 
assuring and  friendly  in  the  extreme,  and  I  be- 
came hopeful. 

"You  have  a  fine  story  in  your  last  issue, 


88         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

Mr.  Moultrie,"  I  continued,  "by  Douglas 
White.  I  consider  it  the  work  of  a  genius 
and  am  greatly  interested  in  him.  Who  is  he 
and  how  did  you  discover  him?" 

"That  is  a  strange  affair,  Mr.  Powell,"  re- 
plied the  editor,  his  face  alight  with  interest. 
"I  can  find  out  absolutely  nothing  about  the 
man.  I  have  bought  nearly  a  dozen  stories 
from  him,  which  are  all  to  be  published  this 
year,  and  I  have  had  to  pay  an  exorbitant 
price  for  each  one.  He  sent  a  batch  of  six 
here  by  a  messenger  four  or  five  months  ago, 
giving  no  address  but  saying  his  messenger 
would  call  again  for  the  decision.  The  prices 
asked  for  the  stories  were  exorbitant  and  I  felt 
that  I  could  not  pay  so  much.  But  no  editor 
could  reject  such  stories.  I  offered  a  large 
price  to  the  messenger  when  he  returned,  but 
he  said  Mr.  White  would  accept  nothing  less 
than  he  had  asked,  so  I  paid  his  price.  I  dis- 
like anything  anonymous;  but  what  can  one 
do?  As  an  editor,  I  am  looking  for  good, 
original  new  writers,  and  he  is  one  whose  name 
will  not  remain  unknown  long.  I  simply  suc- 
cumbed to  the  inevitable  and  paid  the  price, — 
just  twice  the  amount  we  usually  pay." 

We  discussed  the  genius  of  Douglas  White 
for  ten  minutes  or  more;  then  I  left,  promis- 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         89 

ing  to  send  my  manuscript  in  before  the  office 
closed  for  the  day.  I  dispatched  it  post-haste 
by  a  messenger. 

I  decided  it  was  now  necessary  to  see  Ben- 
nett and  tell  him  of  my  decision  to  dispose  of 
my  stories  elsewhere.  This  was  due  to  him  as 
my  friend.  He  had  always  been  interested  in 
my  literary  career,  and  often  had  persuaded 
me  to  give  other  magazines  a  chance,  inas- 
much as  I  had  more  material  than  he  could  pos- 
sibly use.  But  I  had  always  had  very  little 
ambition,  and,  having  sufficient  money  for  my 
personal  needs,  there  was  no  incentive  to  sell 
my  stories.  Indeed  I  felt  an  aversion  to  send- 
ing my  pet  creations  to  editors  whose  petty 
criticisms  were  sometimes  hard  and  unjust. 
Bennett  appreciated  my  work  and  I  did  not 
care  to  place  it  in  a  stranger's  hands.  My 
talents,  I  felt,  were  a  divine  gift,  and  I  could 
not  bring  them  down  to  the  sordid  level  of  an 
ordinary  trade. 

With  these  thoughts  running  through  my 
brain  I  shrank  from  the  ordeal  of  telling  Ben- 
nett of  my  new  decision.  I  found  him  at  his 
office,  but  with  hat  and  coat  on,  ready  to  leave. 

"What's  your  hurry?"  I  asked.  "It's 
hardly  six  o'clock." 

"I  promised  Vi  I  would  be  home  early. 


90         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

You  know  she  has  a  great  care  in  Miss  Neg- 
ley." 

"Is  she  ill?"  I  asked  anxiously,  for  my  heart 
thumped  loudly  at  the  sound  of  her  name. 

"No;  no  more  than  is  natural  after  what  she 
has  gone  through.  She  is  slowly  improving 
and  I  believe  a  few  days  of  rest  will  restore 
her  altogether.  The  shock  of  the  doctor's 
strange  death  has  made  her  very  nervous." 

His  manner  of  explaining  all  this  seemed 
to  me  as  if  he  were  in  full  possession  of  Janet 
Negley's  thoughts,  as  if  he  were  personally  in- 
timate with  her  mental  worries  and  I  were  not. 
At  least  his  manner  was  disquieting.  I  was 
secretly  jealous  of  Bennett's  constant  prox- 
imity to  Janet,  and  for  this  reason  I  was  sus- 
picious of  his  haughty  manner.  He  had  re- 
sumed a  more  natural  attitude  toward  me,  but 
even  now  he  was  not  the  Walter  Bennett  of 
old.  Something  had  come  between  us,  and  in- 
tuitively I  felt  that  Janet  was  the  cause. 

I  was  just  about  to  turn  the  conversation 
upon  the  question  of  my  untimely  visit  when  he 
left  the  room,  saying:  "Just  a  moment, 
Powell;  I  want  to  speak  to  the  bookkeeper." 

He  entered  the  adjoining  room  and  closed 
the  door.  For  several  moments  I  sat  before 
the  desk,  quietly  turning  in  my  mind  just  how 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         91 

I  would  tell  him  of  my  resolution  to  give  to 
Hammond's  Magazine  my  serial,  which  he  did 
not  even  know  had  been  written.  It  was 
strange  that  he  had  not  asked  me  about  a  story. 
He  must  have  found  one  to  take  the  place  of 
the  one  that  I  could  not  and  would  not  write. 
His  reason  for  not  speaking  to  me  again  on 
the  subject  was  probably  on  account  of  his 
mind's  being  preoccupied  with  home  affairs 
and  the  horrible  tragedy  that  seemed  to  be 
winding  us  so  mysteriously  in  its  mesh. 

I  sat  gazing  across  the  room  in  deep  thought. 
An  article  at  the  side  of  the  bookcase  arrested 
my  attention.  I  arose  and  walked  over 
toward  it,  pulled  the  thing  from  between  the 
wall  and  the  bookcase,  and  held  it  before  my 
eyes.  It  was  a  red  toupee. 

In  a  panic  of  fear  I  immediately  replaced 
it  carefully  just  where  I  had  found  it,  before 
I  should  be  detected.  Bennett  came  in  a  few 
seconds  later,  but  I  immediately  left,  deciding 
that  I  would  not  tell  him  about  my  story. 
The  finding  of  the  red  toupee  had  destroyed 
every  vestige  of  sanity  I  possessed.  The  links 
of  the  chain  now  seemed  to  be  connecting,  and 
I  felt  that  absolute  solitude,  so  that  I  could 
think  without  interruption,  was  necessary. 

I  had  told  Vi  that  I  would  come  out  that 


92         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

evening  to  call;  but  I  found  later  in  the  eve- 
ning that  I  was  in  no  fit  mood  to  see  any  one, 
although  the  thought  of  seeing  Janet  and  of 
being  near  her  was  most  alluring.  My  atti- 
tude toward  things  in  general,  and  toward 
Bennett  in  particular,  obscured  my  finer  in- 
stincts and  I  telephoned  that  I  would  not  come. 

The  finding  of  the  red  toupee  in  Bennett's 
office  had  so  upset  me  that  I  could  think  of 
nothing  else.  I  recalled  everything  that  had 
happened  during  the  last  four  days,  and  step 
by  step  I  put  together  a  series  of  mysterious 
and  baffling  facts,  which  at  the  time  I  had 
thought  merely  strange,  but  which  now  as- 
sumed coherent  form.  The  suspicion  that 
took  possession  of  me  upon  discovering  the 
disguise  in  Bennett's  office  was  that  he  was 
the  red-headed  man  I  had  seen  on  the  night  of 
my  visit  to  the  doctor's  office.  If  my  sus- 
picions were  correct,  this  alone  was  sufficient 
reason  for  his  strange  behavior. 

But  why?  The  interrogation  overwhelmed 
me.  Why  should  Bennett  disguise  himself  and 
go  to  the  house  his  sister  was  visiting?  I  re- 
called his  leaving  the  doctor's  office  and  my  see- 
ing his  face  at  the  window.  He  had  not  heard 
the  doctor's  story,  for  had  not  the  doctor  told 
me  I  was  the  first  one  to  hear  it?  If  this  red- 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         93 

headed  man  was  Bennett  in  disguise,  he  had 
raised  the  window  a  few  inches  to  hear  the 
story.  But  had  I  not  seen  Bennett  in  the  par- 
lor as  I  reentered  the  waiting-room?  Had  he 
had  time  to  remove  his  wig  and  enter  the  house? 
Janet  would  not  have  recognized  him  as  one 
of  the  previous  applicants.  If  this  were  so — 
and  intuitively  I  felt  that  it  was — why  had  he 
done  this? 

Could  my  college  friend  be  implicated  in 
the  murder  of  Dr.  Talmar?  The  question 
startled  me  and  I  felt  that  I  had  secretly  sinned 
against  him, — an  irrevocable  offense, — one  I 
could  never  forgive  myself.  But  the  suspicion 
had  taken  deep  root  in  my  brain.  Yet  there 
was  no  present  means  of  confirmation;  I  must 
thrash  the  matter  out  in  my  mind  and  either 
accuse  my  friend  upon  circumstantial  evidence 
or  drop  the  matter  entirely.  The  latter  I 
could  not  do.  I  must  continue  in  my  perilous 
and  disillusioned  course.  If  Bennett  were 
guilty,  then  the  motive  of  the  crime  was  money. 
He  had  been  in  great  need  of  money.  In  fact 
the  idea  had  obsessed  him  that  unless  he  could 
acquire  a  certain  amount  of  money  or  some 
good  material  for  his  magazine  his  failure  was 
imminent. 

I  recalled  Vi's  letter  which  Bennett  had  read 


94         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

to  me  in  his  office.  Had  not  Vi  written  that 
Miss  Negley's  father  had  money  and  had  she 
not  said  that  she  could  tell  him  how  to  get 
some  of  it?  Furthermore  had  not  Vi  acted 
strangely  when  she  related  to  me  the  story  of 
the  tragedy  as  told  to  her  by  Janet?  She  had 
not  mentioned  that  the  ten  thousand  dollars 
had  been  stolen;  and  when  I  had  spoken  of  it 
she  had  seemed  nervous, — had  halted  and 
stammered,  seemingly  confused,  and  had  in- 
stantly turned  the  conversation  to  other  mat- 
ters. Could  both  Vi  and  her  brother  be  im- 
plicated in  the  crime?  It  seemed  like  sacri- 
lege to  think  such  things.  I  was  either  losing 
my  mind  or  my  nerves  were  greatly  shattered. 
Why  had  Bennett  said  he  had  received  a 
letter  from  Douglas  White  saying  he  could 
have  the  story  for  nothing?  This  occurred  the 
morning  after  the  tragedy  had  happened.  I 
recalled  that  the  editor  of  Hammond's  had 
said  that  Douglas  White  had  refused  a  good 
offer  for  his  stories  and  that  he  eventually  had 
had  to  pay  an  exorbitant  price  for  the  manu- 
scripts. If  this  were  true  why  should  Ben- 
nett receive  an  anonymous  letter  saying  he 
could  have  the  story  gratis?  Was  this  not  a 
prevarication  on  Bennett's  part?  If  he  had 
committed  the  crime  and  stolen  the  ten  thou- 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         95 

sand  dollars  he  would  have  sufficient  money  to 
pay  Douglas  White  his  price,  and  had  simply 
given  the  story  of  the  letter  as  a  ruse,  being 
aware  of  my  knowledge  of  the  miserable  con- 
dition of  his  finances. 

If  the  red-headed  man  were  Bennett  in  dis- 
guise would  he  not  have  recognized  me  in  Dr. 
Talmar's  office?  Of  course  he  would,  and  I 
accounted  for  Bennett's  strange  actions  in  this 
way, — he  feared  that  I  had  recognized  him  and 
assumed  an  abrupt  manner  of  indifference  in 
the  matter  to  mislead  me.  It  was  natural  that 
he  should  act  strangely  in  that  case. 

While  the  actions  of  both  Vi  and  her  brother 
were  suspicious,  Janet's  account  of  the  tragedy 
was  also  mystifying.  She  and  Phyllis  did  not 
tell  the  same  story.  This  inconsistency  I 
finally  eliminated  entirely  from  my  thoughts. 
Phyllis  was  evidently  wrong.  The  Persian 
tassel  was  an  odd  link  which  I  could  not  con- 
nect, so  I  dismissed  it  as  irrelevant. 

I  had  thrashed  the  subject  out  fully,  so  I 
believed,  and  there  was  nothing  I  could  do. 
I  knew  that  I  had  sufficient  clues  on  which  to 
have  Bennett  arrested  upon  circumstantial  evi- 
dence if  I  should  tell  my  story  to  the  police, 
but  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  shield  my  friend.  I 
was  the  only  one  who  did  know,  and  the  law 


96         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

should  not  come  between  me  and  my  secret. 
If  Bennett  were  guilty,  I  would  not  be  the 
one  to  cause  his  arrest.  If  there  were  only 
some  one  in  whom  I  could  confide,  and  who 
could  show  me  wherein  I  was  wrong  in  my 
suspicions,  a  fearful  load  would  be  lifted  off 
my  mind. 

Two  days  passed,  and  I  had  scarcely  left 
my  rooms.  I  had  finished  the  final  installment 
of  my  story,  the  denouement  being  entirely 
imaginary  and  in  accord  with  my  own  de- 
sires. I  freed  my  hero  from  the  suspicion  of 
crime,  and  let  him  carry  off  the  heroine  to  a 
minister  who  bound  them  in  the  bonds  of  matri- 
mony. I  felt  that  the  work  was  good,  and  I 
immediately  dispatched  it  to  Moultrie,  who, 
in  the  meantime,  had  informed  me  by  tele- 
phone that  he  would  accept  the  story,  the  first 
installment  of  which  he  would  publish  in  the 
following  issue  of  Hammond's  Magazine. 
He  offered  me  a  good  price  for  the  manu- 
script,— an  offer  that  I  promptly  accepted. 

During  my  two  days  of  seclusion  I  had  tele- 
phoned to  Vi  on  several  occasions  making  in- 
quiry as  to  Miss  Negley's  health.  Her  an- 
swer was  always  that  Miss  Negley  was  improv- 
ing, and  my  hopes  would  arise  forthwith  until 
she  would  mention  that  Janet  was  out  driving 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL         97 

with  Bennett  or  that  she  would  go  walking 
with  him  that  afternoon.  I  was  jealous  of 
Bennett,  and  suspecting  him  as  I  did,  the  news 
of  his  constant  attentions  to  Janet  made  me 
grind  my  teeth.  Those  attentions  should  not 
continue.  But  how  was  I  to  prevent  it?  I 
could  not  tell  my  suspicions  to  any  one.  What 
if  I  were  wrong?  There  was  nothing  for  me 
to  do  but  to  become  his  rival  for  the  hand  of 
Janet  Negley,  and  in  an  open  and  honorable 
manner  stand  my  ground  to  lose  or  win. 

But  if  I  should  lose,  could  I  see  her  marry 
Walter  Bennett  who  had  been  the  murderer 
of  her  father?  My  jealous  hatred  of  Bennett 
had  reached  perilous  depths,  but  my  natural 
instinct  of  loyalty  to  my  friend  could  not  be 
entirely  drowned  in  a  day.  Even  while  sus- 
pecting him  of  the  murder  of  Dr.  Talmar,  and 
of  unworthily  wooing  Janet  Negley,  I  could 
not  do  my  friend  harm.  If  the  love  of  success 
had  so  overpowered  his  better  nature,  and  he 
had  become  so  greedy  and  mercenary  that  he 
had  stooped  to  crime  to  attain  his  selfish  de- 
sires, I  ought  not  to  hate  him  but  I  should 
pity  him  in  his  fallen  manhood.  Yes,  I  would 
shield  my  friend  from  the  detection  of  the 
crime.  But  the  jealousy  aroused  by  his  ap- 
parent devotion  to  Janet  made  me  feel  that  the 


98         THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

weight  that  was  thrust  upon  me  was  more  than 
I  could  bear. 

Men  have  been  known  to  kill  their  rivals 
through  jealousy,  and  I  felt  that  there  was 
some  excuse  for  it.  I  had  stayed  at  home  for 
two  days  in  order  not  to  meet  Bennett,  and  in 
order  to  meditate  in  the  solitude  of  my  own 
room  upon  the  strange  happenings  of  the  past 
week. 

As  the  day  was  beautiful,  the  wind  being 
soft  and  springlike  and  the  birds  chirping 
gaily,  I  called  up  Janet  and  asked  her  to  take 
a  drive  with  me  through  the  park.  She  re- 
plied that  she  had  an  engagement  with  Ben- 
nett, but  that  she  would  gladly  accept  some 
other  day.  I  immediately  appointed  an  hour 
for  the  following  afternoon  and  left  the  tele- 
phone, my  nerves  tingling  at  the  sound  of  her 
voice. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  LOVERS'  RENDEZVOUS 

AT  length  I  found  myself  alone  with  Janet 
Xegley.  The  park  was  crowded  as  we 
motored  through.  Children  with  their  nurses 
romped  and  played  in  the  sunshine,  their 
joyous  laughter  reechoing  throughout  the 
grounds.  The  benches  were  filled  with  men 
and  women  enjoying  this  first  promise  of 
spring  after  the  long  months  of  winter. 
Everybody  looked  happy  and  I  could  scarcely 
repress  the  sympathetic  exhilaration  that  filled 
me  as  I  gazed  at  the  scene. 

Janet  too  was  stirred  by  the  beauty  and  the 
warmth  and  the  joyous  cries  of  the  children 
at  play.  She  raised  her  veil,  and,  throwing 
her  furs  back  from  her  shoulders,  said:  "Oh, 
don't  you  love  the  spring,  Mr.  Powell?  It 
makes  me  happy  despite  all  my  sorrow." 

"I  felt  sure  you  would  enjoy  a  ride  to-day," 
I  said,  looking  into  her  upturned  face.  She 
met  my  gaze  with  a  smile  and  nodded  assent; 
then  she  turned  her  head  as  if  fearing  a  too 
personal  avowal  of  our  mutual  satisfaction,  and 

99 


100       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

commenced  to  talk  lightly  about  the  crowd 
before  us. 

A  half-hour  later  we  had  passed  the  bustle 
and  turmoil  of  the  big  city  and  were  speeding 
toward  Coney  Island  along  the  clean  broad 
roadway  that  stretched  out  its  miles  of  irides- 
cent color  before  our  eyes, — a  veritable  lovers' 
lane,  I  thought  secretly  as  I  gazed  dreamily 
down  into  the  wide  vista. 

"Do  tell  me  something  about  your  writings, 
Mr.  Powell,"  said  Janet,  after  a  long  silence. 
At  her  words  the  spell  was  broken  and  I  looked 
up  abashed  and  stammered  awkwardly: 

"Oh,  my  stories?  But  there  is  nothing  to 
tell,  Miss  Negley,  except  that  I  write  because 
I  can  do  nothing  else." 

"And  you  do  not  love  your  vocation?  I 
consider  it  one  of  the  greatest  there  is,  with  the 
exception  of  painting,"  she  continued  seriously. 

"Indeed  I  do  love  it;  it  is  my  very  life." 

I  felt  awkward,  like  a  bashful  boy,  and 
wished  to  change  the  subject,  so  I  asked  her 
if  she  would  not  like  to  get  out  and  take  a  stroll 
along  the  beach.  She  replied  in  the  affirma- 
tive, so  I  helped  her  alight  from  the  car,  tell- 
ing the  driver  to  return  for  us  in  twenty  min- 
utes. 

We  walked  down   over  the  beach  to  the 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       101 

water's  edge.  A  few  yards  ahead  I  saw  a 
bench,  facing  the  sea.  The  wind  was  high, 
but  the  air  was  soft  and  warm.  Janet's  veil 
fluttered  freely  in  the  breeze  and  once  as  it 
was  blown  across  my  face  I  pressed  it  to  my 
lips. 

We  were  alone  on  the  beach;  not  a  person 
was  in  sight.  The  swelling  billows  rolled 
toward  us,  creeping  stealthily  over  the  sand, 
with  a  dull  roar  and  a  splash  of  effervescent 
spray  as  they  broke  against  the  bank  at  our 
feet.* 

I  had  moved  perilously  near  Janet.  Looking 
down  at  her  I  saw  that  her  face  was  flushed. 
Grasping  one  of  her  gloved  hands  in  mine  I 
put  it  to  my  lips,  saying:  "Janet,  Janet,  I  love 
you  and  have  loved  you  from  the  first  day  we 
met."  I  gently  drew  her  to  me  and  put  my 
lips  upon  hers. 

"Janet,  I  love  you — love  you!  Will  you  be 
my  wife?"  I  clasped  her  closer.  I  gazed 
into  her  face  with  a  longing  to  kiss  her  again 
and  again,  but  a  pressure  of  her  arms  warned 
me  that  she  wished  to  be  free  from  my  embrace, 
and  I  released  her.  She  had  turned  pale  and 
her  breathing  was  quick. 

"I  have  been  a  fool,"  I  thought.  "I  have 
probably  frightened  her." 


102        THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"Forgive  me,  Janet,  for  speaking  so  sud- 
denly," I  begged.  "Forgive  me,  dear,  for  I 
could  not  help  it." 

She  had  regained  her  composure  and  now 
turned  to  me.  Her  face  bore  no  signs  of 
anger,  but  an  indefinable  something  lurked 
there. 

"I  had  no  idea  that  you  liked  me,"  she  said 
sadly. 

"Loved,"  I  corrected.  "I  love  you.  And 
you?" 

"Why,  I  hardly  know  what  my  feelings  for 
you  are,"  she  replied. 

"Then  I  will  wait,  Janet;  wait  until  you  do 
know." 

She  placed  her  hand  upon  my  arm  caress- 
ingly and  I  took  it  and  kissed  it. 

Our  ride  back  to  the  city  was  like  a  dream. 
The  formality  was  at  last  entirely  broken  and 
we  now  talked  naturally,  but  I  did  not  again 
refer  to  my  love.  She  had  not  repulsed  me; 
that  seemed  to  me  an  indication  that  at  least 
I  was  not  distasteful  to  her.  I  resolved  that 
I  would  make  her  love  me. 

When  we  reached  the  Bennett  home  I  lin- 
gered at  the  door  in  the  hope  that  she  would  in- 
vite me  to  come  in,  but  she  did  not. 

I  immediately  drove  to  Bennett's  office  and 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       103 

found  him  writing,  as  usual.  He  greeted  me 
cheerfully  as  I  entered.  I  wondered  what  had 
happened;  his  manner  had  certainly  changed. 
He  was  evidently  feeling  well,  and  he  appeared 
like  his  old  self  for  the  first  time  since  the 
tragedy. 

"You  seem  unusually  happy,"  I  said. 

"I  am,  Powell,"  he  answered  quickly. 

"What  has  happened?" 

"Oh,  a  great  deal  has  happened." 

"But  tell  me  what  it  is.  Don't  keep  me  in 
suspense." 

"Well,"  he  declared,  "I'm  in  love, — I  have 
proposed  to  Janet  Negley." 

The  words  fell  upon  my  ears  like  the  de- 
tonation of  a  cannon.  Bennett  must  have 
thought  I  was  mad,  for  I  stared  at  him  as  if 
he  had  declared  himself  a  murderer.  I  leaned 
forward  in  my  chair,  grasping  the  sides  tightly 
in  an  endeavor  to  suppress  my  emotion.  I 
tried  to  speak  but  my  mouth  was  dry  and  my 
lips  were  parched  and  burning;  for  the  time 
being  I  was  paralyzed. 

Finally  he  turned  from  me  in  disgust,  saying 
somewhat  sarcastically,  "It  is  usually  consid- 
ered the  proper  thing  to  congratulate  one  upon 
an  occasion  like  this." 

"Then  she  did  accept  you?"  I  asked.     It 


was  the  first  time  I  had  spoken,  and  my  words 
had  a  hollow,  metallic  sound. 

"Well,  not  exactly,  Powell ;  but  I  have  great 
hopes." 

I  took  his  hand  and  wrung  it  generously. 
"You  have  hopes?  I  am  glad.  Accept  my 
congratulations,"  I  said. 

My  manner  was  apparently  so  sincere  that 
Bennett  clasped  my  hand  in  return,  patting 
me  on  the  back  in  goodfellowship. 

"I  knew  you  would  take  it  like  this,  Clarke," 
he  exclaimed.  "You  are  a  good  fellow  and 
my  best  friend.  Why,  confound  it,  old  man, 
you  are  to  be  my  best  man.  Think  of  it, — 
accompanying  your  old  bachelor  editor  to  the 
altar.  Why,  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  compli- 
ments I  could  pay  you." 

I  could  not  bear  to  listen  to  his  maudlin 
ravings,  so  I  made  an  excuse  and  left. 
Anything  to  get  away  from  the  ravings  of  my 
lunatic  rival ! 

So  Bennett  was  actually  my  rival.  This 
was  no  surmise  nor  was  it  the  mysterious  hal- 
lucination of  an  overworked  brain.  Reality 
stared  me  in  the  face,  and  I  must  grapple  with 
it  as  best  I  could.  However,  Janet  had  not 
promised  to  marry  him  as  yet.  I  was  thank- 
ful of  that. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       105 

I  had  gone  to  Bennett's  office  with  the  in- 
tention of  telling  him  of  my  love  for  Janet  and 
of  my  recent  proposal  to  her,  thinking  that  to 
make  him  cognizant  of  my  attitude  toward  her 
would  prevent  any  further  intimacy  between 
them. 

He  should  not  marry  Janet  Negley.  Of 
this  I  felt  sure;  for  unless  he  could  extricate 
himself  from  the  mesh  of  circumstantial  evi- 
dence that  I  had  found  against  him — the  evi- 
dence that  connected  him  with  the  Talmar 
tragedy — he  should  not  marry  the  girl  I  loved. 
I  would  either  go  to  him  and  explain  my  atti- 
tude toward  Janet  Negley,  or  tell  Janet  her- 
self and  let  her  choose  between  us.  She  would 
not  marry  Bennett  unless  the  suspicion  against 
him  could  be  explained  satisfactorily  to  her. 
But  I  did  not  want  to  go  to  Bennett  with  the 
idea  of  accusing  him  of  having  had  a  hand 
in  the  murder;  I  knew  that  a  satisfactory  de- 
nouement could  not  be  developed  in  that  way ; 
and  he  had  refused  to  discuss  the  murder  of  Dr. 
Talmar  with  me  on  several  occasions  when  I 
had  brought  it  up  on  purpose,  in  the  hope  that 
a  discussion  of  the  tragedy  might  eliminate  my 
doubts  concerning  him. 

Deeply  embedded  in  a  corner  of  my  subcon- 
scious mind  was  the  thought  that  eventually  I 


106       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

should  win.  Suppose  I  were  to  tell  Janet  of 
the  mysterious  part  Bennett  had  played  in  the 
tragedy?  Would  that  be  such  a  terrible 
breach  of  honor?  Of  course  it  would,  and  I 
shrank  from  the  thought.  Suppose  it  were 
all  a  mistake  about  Bennett's  being  connected 
with  the  affair?  I  could  not  contemplate  the 
result  if  that  were  so.  Why  not  go  to  Ben- 
nett and  explain  all  the  circumstances  and  my 
doubts  of  his  integrity?  No;  I  could  not  do 
this,  for  the  evidence  I  had  against  him  was  de- 
cidedly unstable.  I  could  not  let  my  friend 
know  that  I  suspected  him  of  treachery.  But 
could  I  stand  by  silently,  knowing  all  that  I 
did,  and  let  him  marry  the  woman  I  loved? 
No;  I  could  not  do  that  either. 

I  bought  an  evening  paper,  and  took  a 
Broadway  car.  I  read  the  paper  closely,  hop- 
ing to  come  across  something  concerning  the 
Talmar  murder.  Every  night  I  had  been 
reading  the  paper  eagerly  in  the  hope  of  find- 
ing that  the  mystery  had  been  solved.  The 
night  before  I  had  found  a  small  item  saying 
that  the  police  were  still  working  on  the  case, 
but  that  nothing  in  the  way  of  clues  had  been 
found.  To-night  no  reference  to  the  crime  in 
any  way  could  be  found,  so  I  finally  threw 
down  the  paper  in  disgust. 


A  MATE  TO  THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

THE  following  morning  I  spent  an  hour 
at  the  Literary  Club,  where  a  small 
crowd  of  local  newspaper  reporters,  hack 
writers,  and  the  near-great  assembled  to  dis- 
cuss "How  to  Achieve  the  Impossible  with  a 
Minimum  of  Work."  I  found  that  the  usual 
theme  of  discourse  had  been  abandoned  and 
was  usurped  by  the  topic  "Who  is  Douglas 
White?"  I  listened  attentively  to  their  sur- 
mises as  to  who  was  the  newly- discovered 
genius,  but  finally  became  bored  and  left  the 
room  to  telephone  to  Janet. 

I  had  tried  to  deceive  myself  into  believing 
that  I  could  shake  off  my  nervous  apprehen- 
sion by  going  to  the  Club  and  mingling  with 
my  fellow-men;  but  the  feeling  only  took  a 
stronger  hold  upon  me,  and  I  could  not  satisfy 
nor  quiet  myself  until  I  had  talked  with  Janet. 
She  said  I  might  call  in  the  afternoon,  and  I 
longed  for  the  hours  to  pass.  I  must  see  her, 
— be  with  her.  But  a  feeling  of  apprehension 

107 


108       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

followed  upon  the  thought;  for  I  had  decided 
to  explain  the  mysterious  part  Bennett  had 
played  in  the  tragic  death  of  her  father.  I 
had  no  alternative;  I  could  not  remain  silent 
and  see  Janet  marry  a  man  who  was  possibly 
a  criminal. 

I  did  not  intend  to  tell  Janet  all  my  doubts ; 
but  I  would  tell  her  just  what  I  knew  concern- 
ing Bennett's  mysterious  actions.  Possibly 
she  could  explain  his  strange  behavior.  At 
least  I  hoped  this  would  be  the  case. 

The  hours  dragged  by.  Ten  o'clock  found 
me  walking  in  the  park,  my  head  bowed  in 
meditation.  At  eleven  I  was  riding  on  the 
Elevated  from  one  end  of  the  road  to  the 
other.  I  could  not  keep  still.  I  felt  that  I 
had  to  move  constantly.  To  see  a  man  riding 
back  and  forth  aimlessly  is  in  itself  suspicious. 
Any  one  would  know  that  I  was  not  riding  for 
my  health ;  I  certainly  did  not  look  like  an  in- 
valid. I  became  uneasy  each  time  we  reached 
the  end  of  the  line  and  the  guard  eyed  me 
strangely,  saying:  "The  end  of  the  road,  sir. 
All  out  here." 

After  I  had  told  him  at  the  end  of  three 
trips  that  I  wished  to  remain,  he  looked  at  me 
suspiciously,  mumbling  to  himself;  then  he 
turned  his  head  away,  only  to  turn  again  and 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       109 

look  at  me  questioningly.  I  became  so  ex- 
asperated by  the  fellow's  piercing  looks  that 
I  finally  decided  to  get  off  at  the  first  stop. 

I  entered  a  cafe  about  noon.  After  I  had 
finished  my  meal  I  still  had  two  hours  to  wait 
before  my  appointment  with  Janet.  How 
would  I  put  in  the  time?  I  called  the  waiter 
and  asked  him  to  bring  me  a  cigar;  then  I  sat 
back  in  my  chair  impatiently  and  looked  about 
the  room, — a  small  one,  low  and  dingy,  fur- 
nished with  ten  or  twelve  bare  tables.  I  had 
been  so  preoccupied  up  to  this  time  that  I  had 
not  noticed  what  a  distasteful  place  it  was, — 
this  tavern  on  a  street  down  near  the  river 
front.  The  bar  was  at  one  side,  and  the  tur- 
moil within  began  to  attract  my  attention  as 
did  a  voice  near  me. 

Two  men  sat  at  a  table  at  my  right,  a  pint 
of  brandy  and  a  siphon  between  them  in  the 
center  of  the  table.  One  of  the  men,  though 
he  seemed  to  be  angry,  talked  in  a  low,  tense 
tone.  Still  I  could  hear  distinctly,  and  his 
first  words  attracted  my  attention. 

"It  was  the  meanest  piece  of  business  I  ever 
knew  him  to  do,"  he  was  saying.  "Still,  ten 
thousand  dollars  is  not  to  be  sneezed  at.  This 
new  proposition  he  has  made  sounds  good  to 
me.  It's  a  dead  easy  game." 


110       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

The  other  man's  answer  was  lost  to  me,  as 
just  then  the  waiter  came  up  and  handed  me 
my  cigar,  but  I  heard  one  word  that  aroused 
my  interest  still  more.  The  word  was: 
"Shetland."  I  became  greatly  agitated  but 
assumed  an  indifferent  manner,  relighting  my 
cigar  and  feigning  disinterested  preoccupa- 
tion, while  in  reality  I  was  keeping  my  ears 
strained  for  their  next  remarks. 

Smoking  leisurely,  I  looked  across  and  be- 
gan to  study  the  two  men.  The  one  that  had 
spoken  first  was  a  large-boned  man,  about  six 
feet  high,  with  brown,  curly  hair  and  a  fat, 
bloated  face.  He  was  an  illiterate,  uncouth 
fellow,  although  his  appearance  was  not  un- 
attractive. His  friend  was  slim  in  figure,  im- 
maculate in  dress,  looked  like  a  consumptive, 
and  spoke  good  English.  Observing  that  I 
was  interested  in  them,  they  turned  the  con- 
versation to  other  things.  They  looked  at  me 
supiciously  from  time  to  time  and  once,  just 
as  I  was  about  to  pay  the  waiter,  our  eyes  met. 
The  lean  fellow's  intense  scrutiny  was  annoy- 
ing and  I  looked  away  as  I  got  up  from  my 
seat. 

I  glanced  at  my  watch  and  found  that  I  still 
had  an  hour  and  a  half  before  my  appointment 
with  Janet.  I  entered  the  street  quite  unde- 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       111 

cided  what  to  do.  The  two  men  were  coming 
toward  the  door.  I  stood  near  the  corner  of 
the  building  and  concealed  myself  behind  one 
of  the  pillars  at  the  entrance. 

I  had  decided  to  follow  the  men ;  it  would  at 
least  give  me  something  to  do  to  pass  away  the 
time,  and  possibly  I  might  learn  something 
to  further  my  own  interests.  I  had  not 
learned  anything  worth  while  from  what  I  had 
overheard  in  the  cafe,  but  to  me  the  words 
"Shetland"  and  "ten  thousand  dollars"  were  a 
suspicious  combination.  The  lean  fellow  pre- 
ceded the  other  as  they  came  through  the  door, 
and  I  heard  him  say  in  a  decided  way: 

"Bennett  is  no  coward  and  he'll  succeed." 

They  had  turned  to  the  right  and  started  up 
the  street  in  a  lazy,  halting  manner.  I  waited 
until  they  were  a  half  block  away;  then  I  fol- 
lowed them,  keeping  close  to  the  buildings  at 
the  side,  so  that  I  could  enter  one  of  the  stores 
if  they  happened  to  turn  and  recognize  me. 
Neither  of  the  men  looked  around. 

At  length,  I  thought,  I  had  found  the  trail 
by  which  I  would  eventually  become  enlight- 
ened. Bennett  was  guilty;  my  heart  fell  at  the 
thought.  His  name  had  been  mentioned  in 
connection  with  Shetland  and  the  ten  thousand 
dollars.  These  two  men  were  most  likely  his 


112       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

accomplices.  Oh,  the  thought  was  madden- 
ing! A  lump  rose  in  my  throat  as  if  to  choke 
me,  and  the  sadness  that  came  over  me  as  I 
thought  of  my  friend  was  intense.  I  would 
now  have  to  tell  Janet;  but  instinctively  I 
knew  I  would  conceal  a  large  part  of  my  sus- 
picion, from  a  sense  of  loyalty  to  my  friend. 

I  followed  the  men  for  several  blocks,  lost 
track  of  them  once,  but  found  they  had  only 
crossed  the  street  and  entered  the  basement 
of  a  dilapidated  two-story  frame  building. 
As  I  saw  them  disappear  from  view  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street,  I  decided  to 
stop  and  wait  until  they  came  out  again; 
then  I  would  continue  to  follow  them  to  see  if 
I  could  learn  anything. 

Turning  around  I  found  I  was  standing  in 
front  of  a  small,  dirty  tobacco  shop,  which 
faced  directly  the  building  the  two  men  had 
entered.  I  scribbled  the  number  of  the  house 
and  street  in  my  note-book,  then  entered  the 
little  shop.  The  room  was  very  small;  it  was 
all  I  could  do  to  turn  around  in  the  space  be- 
tween the  counters.  The  air  was  stifling,  and 
dirt  and  dust  lay  a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick 
upon  the  surrounding  boxes. 

The  man  behind  the  counter  was  a  dwarf; 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       113 

a  pair  of  sickly  dull  blue  eyes  shone  out  of  his 
face.  He  smelled  of  tobacco  and  garlic.  I 
looked  around,  keeping  a  close  eye  upon  the 
house  across  the  street,  and  finally  purchased 
a  package  of  cigarettes.  Lighting  a  cigarette, 
I  asked: 

"You  don't  object  to  my  opening  the  door, 
do  you?  There's  scarcely  enough  air  in  here 
for  two  men  and  a  cigarette." 

"Naw,"  drawled  the  little  fellow  in  a  coarse 
twang;  "but  air  don't  agree  with  me  much. 
It  gives  me  neuralgia,  so  that's  why  I  keep  the 
doors  and  windows  shut  purty  tight." 

"Have  you  had  this  store  long?"  I  asked, 
eying  him  keenly.  "Do  you  make  much 
money  ?  Are  there  many  good  spenders  about 
here?"  I  wanted  to  get  him  to  talk. 

"Wall,  not  so  much,"  he  replied;  "but  lately 
my  trade  is  a-pickin'  up  some.  Thar's  two 
fellows  across  the  street  that  spend  a  sight  on 
tobacco.  I  had  to  get  a  box  o'  ten-centers  for 
them,  and  they  bought  them  all  in  a  few  days. 
They  got  lots  of  money, — them  fellows." 

"They're  newcomers,  you  say?"  He  had 
not  said  so,  but  I  asked  the  question  in  a  man- 
ner that  suggested  that  I  was  only  speaking  to 
keep  the  conversation  going.  In  reality  I  was 


114       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

greatly  excited  over  the  knowledge  that  the 
man  might  be  able  to  tell  me  something  of  in- 
terest concerning  them. 

"Yes,  they  been  here  about  a  week." 

"What  are  their  names?" 

"Don't  know." 

"What  do  they  do?  How  do  they  get  their 
money?"  I  tried  to  look  disinterested,  but  I 
must  have  failed  in  my  object,  or  the  fellow 
was  not  quite  so  big  a  fool  as  I  had  thought. 
He  eyed  me  rather  sharply  and  turned  to  ar- 
range some  boxes  on  the  shelves  as  he  gave  an 
indifferent  answer. 

I  glanced  at  my  watch  and  decided  to  leave, 
as  there  was  no  telling  when  the  men  would 
come  out  again  from  across  the  street.  It  was 
too  late  for  me  to  follow  them,  although  it  was 
still  rather  early  to  go  to  Janet's.  I  had  the 
number  of  the  place  and  could  come  back 
later.  Walking  down  the  street,  I  took  the 
Elevated  to  Harlem  and  in  a  short  while  I 
was  with  Janet. 

My  glance  devoured  her.  Her  satiny  skin 
shone  fair  as  a  lily  in  the  low-cut  negligee  dress. 
It  was  the  second  time  I  had  seen  her  dressed 
in  colors,  and  she  looked  enchanting  in  the 
varicolored  silk.  I  was  greatly  embarrassed, 
not  knowing  how  to  bring  up  the  subject  that 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       115 

was  on  my  mind,  and  Janet  seemed  preoc- 
cupied and  worried. 

"You  do  not  seem  like  yourself,  Janet,"  I 
said,  coming  over  and  seating  myself  beside 
her  on  the  couch.  "Are  you  worried  about 
anything?  Tell  me,  dear,"  I  insisted,  as  she 
sat  silent  and  gazing  dreamily  through  the 
window. 

Finally,  with  a  deep  sigh,  she  turned  to  me, 
and  placed  one  hand  on  my  arm,  saying: 

"Yes,  I  am  worried.  I  am  afraid,  Mr. 
Powell,  I  had  better  go  home.  I  have  been 
with  Vi  a  week,  and  I  cannot  expect  to  stay 
here  indefinitely.  I  can  get  Phyllis  to  come 
back  and  keep  house  for  me.  I  have  dreaded 
the  thought  of  returning  to  Shetland,  and 
have  postponed  it  from  day  to  day  for  that 
reason,  but  something  has  occurred  that  makes 
it  necessary  for  me  to  go.  I  must  make  my 
arrangements  at  once." 

"Something  has  happened?"  I  said  in  alarm. 
"What,  Janet  ?  Tell  me,  dear- 

"Oh,  it  is  nothing  serious,"  she  said  nerv- 
ously; "but  I  would  feel  better  at  home." 

I  implored  her  to  tell  me. 

"Indeed,  Mr.  Powell,  I  hardly  know  what  to 
say;  it  is  such  a  peculiar  situation.  Mr.  Ben- 
nett is  your  friend."  She  looked  at  me  appeal- 


116       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

ingly,  walked  over  to  the  window  and  gazed 
out  for  a  moment,  then  turned  again  toward 
me. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Bennett  is  my  friend,  Janet;  but 
I  love  you.  Tell  me  and  let  me  dispel  your 
doubts  or  reassure  you." 

"Mr.  Bennett  proposed  to  me  a  few  days 
ago,  and — " 

I  went  toward  her  excitedly. 

"Yes,  yes;  but  you  did  not  accept  him, 
Janet?  Tell  me." 

"No;  I  did  not  accept  him,"  she  replied 
firmly. 

"Thank  God!" 

"But  I  foolishly  promised  to  give  him  an  an- 
swer," she  continued  hastily,  with  a  catch 
in  her  breath;  then  she  added  more  calmly: 
"This  morning  I  noticed  at  the  breakfast  table 
that  he  seemed  excited,  and  afterward  he  told 
me  that  he  wished  to  talk  with  me.  I  fol- 
lowed him  into  the  parlor  and  he  closed 
the  door.  He  was  very  much  agitated  and 
asked  me  to  forget  his  declaration  of  love  for 
me.  He  said  he  loved  me  madly,  but  that  it 
was  a  hopeless  passion  and  he  could  not  marry 
me  under  any  circumstances.  He  could  not 
tell  me  why  this  was  so,  but  said  that  circum- 
stances were  such  that  he  could  not  think  of 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       117 

marrying  any  woman.  He  begged  me  to  for- 
give him.  He  acted  like  a  madman,  Mr. 
Powell,  and  I  became  frightened.  It  is  such 
an  unusual  occurrence,  and — well,  I'd  rather 
not  stay  here  any  longer.  Vi  and  Mr.  Ben- 
nett have  both  been  most  kind  to  me,  but  of 
course  I  do  not  wish  to  stay  here  any  longer." 

Deeply  troubled,  she  looked  intently  out  the 
open  window. 

"I  would  not  worry,  Janet,"  I  said  gently; 
"Bennett  has  some  reason  for  his  inexplicable 
behavior.  ...  It  is  natural  you  should  not 
wish  to  stay  here  any  longer." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  for  I 
feared  to  appear  selfish  and  disloyal  to  Vi  if 
I  returned  home  against  her  wishes.  I  spoke 
to  her  of  it  this  morning." 

While  she  was  speaking  I  stood  gazing  at 
her,  fascinated  by  the  alluring  picture  that  she 
made  in  her  rich  gown  of  Persian  silk.  A  gold 
cord  was  loosely  wound  around  her  waist,  and 
from  one  end  of  this  cord  dangled  a  Persian 
tassel,  the  exact  duplicate  of  the  one  I  had. 
Its  mate  was  missing. 

I  walked  up  close  to  her  and  took  one  of  her 
hands  in  mine. 

"You  have  lost  a  tassel,  dear,"  I  said. 
"How  did  it  happen?" 


118       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

I  noticed  a  fleeting  expression  of  annoy- 
ance pass  over  her  face. 

"Oh,  its  loss  is  immaterial,"  she  answered. 
"I  have  simply  neglected  to  replace  it." 

"It  may  be  difficult  to  match  it,"  I  continued, 
persistently. 

"Yes,  I  am  afraid  so.  I  bought  the  gown 
in  Teheran  three  years  ago,  when  father  and 
I  were  in  Persia." 

"It's  too  bad.  Maybe  you'll  find  it  around 
the  house  somewhere." 

She  seemed  annoyed,  and  tried  to  change  the 
subject;  but  I  was  obsessed  with  the  idea  of 
clearing  up  the  mystery  concerning  that  hate- 
ful tassel.  Her  manner  was  anything  but  re- 
assuring, and  my  heart  grew  heavy  with  appre- 
hension despite  her  fascinating  presence. 

"Janet,  tell  me  how  you  lost  the  tassel," 
I  begged,  showing  some  excitement. 

"But,  Mr.  Powell,  why  should  you  ask? 
How  does  one  lose  anything?  It  does  not 
worry  me,  except  that  the  dress  seems  hardly 
tidy.  If  you  had  not  come  quite  so  early  I 
would  not  have  had  to  appear  in  this."  She 
smiled  as  she  looked  down  at  her  attire.  "I 
see  you  are  decidedly — what  shall  I  say? — 
finicky  as  to  matters  of  dress.  The  omission 
disturbs  your  esthetic  taste.  Perfection  in  de- 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       119 

tail  is  essentially  an  author's  trait.  I  shall 
not  forget  it,  Mr.  Powell;  I  shall  discard  the 
dress  until  I  can  replace  the  tassel." 

She  was  ridiculing  me  for  my  impudence  in 
mentioning  the  matter.  Indeed,  I  had  cer- 
tainly taken  a  very  great  liberty  in  even  men- 
tioning the  subject.  I  had  seen  only  my  side 
of  the  question,  and  had  failed  to  consider  the 
personal  criticism  my  words  might  convey. 
How  could  I  extricate  myself  from  the  mis- 
understanding? There  seemed  to  be  no  way. 
Janet's  words  were  light  and  piquant,  but  her 
tone  of  irony  made  them  weigh  heavily. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Janet,"  I  said.  "I 
was  not  criticising  you  personally.  Forgive 
me  if  I  have  offended." 

"You  have  not  offended  me,  Mr.  Powell; 
let's  forget  all  about  it." 

She  took  a  book  from  the  table  and  turned 
the  pages  carelessly.  I  did  not  bring  up  the 
subject  again. 

"Janet,  you  should  not  go  back  to  that  house 
alone,"  I  said,  after  a  few  minutes  of  silence, 
during  which  I  had  been  gazing  at  her  with  a 
longing  to  embrace  her.  Her  indifference  en- 
raged me. 

"Janet,"  I  began,  my  voice  trembling  like 
an  infatuated  school-boy's,  "why  can't  we  be 


120       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

married  at  once,  and  then  you'll  not  have  to 
return  to  Shetland?  I  fear  to  have  you  go 
back  to  that  house  alone — after  that  dread- 
ful tragedy — and  you  so  young,  unprotected, 
and—" 

She  interrupted  the  flow  of  words.  Her 
voice  was  calm,  but  her  reserve  somewhat 
checked  and  chilled  me. 

"I  cannot  marry  you  now,  Mr.  Powell,"  she 
said.  "It  is  impossible  to  give  you  a  definite 
answer.  I  like  you  immensely,  perhaps  more 
than  I  care  to  acknowledge,  but  I  cannot  think 
of  marriage  at  present." 

"But  why,  Janet,  why?  If  you  do  care 
for  me,"  I  added,  imploringly.  "If  you  care 
for  me — that  is  all  that  is  necessary.  I  would 
marry  you  if  you  didn't  care  for  me,  and  take 
the  chance  of  winning  your  love.  For  God's 
sake,  say  something,  Janet.  Say  that  some 
time  you  will  marry  me!"  I  arose  and  began 
pacing  back  and  forth,  but  still  she  did  not 
reply. 

I  took  my  hat  from  the  table,  hardly  know- 
ing what  I  was  doing;  then  she  arose  and 
placed  a  detaining  hand  upon  my  arm. 

"If  you  cannot  wait  for  my  answer,  Mr. 
Powell — "  she  began. 

I  interrupted  her  by  grasping  the  hand  and 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       121 

i. 

crushing  it  to  my  lips.     "I  will  wait,  Janet,  I 

will  wait,"  I  said,  in  a  choked  voice.  Putting 
my  arms  around  her,  I  held  her  close  to  me 
and  kissed  her.  Then  releasing  her,  I  added, 
"I  will  wait,  Janet,  just  as  long  as  you  wish." 
I  did  not  look  back  nor  hear  her  response 
as  I  hurriedly  left  the  house. 


GONE 

MY  love  for  Janet  Negley  was  the  pas- 
sion of  a  lifetime, — a  love  not  of  the 
senses  alone,  but  of  the  spirit  as  well.  I  re- 
garded my  feeling  for  the  girl  as  the  one  ir- 
resistible force  of  my  life.  Could  any  one 
come  between  us,  now  that  Bennett  had  re- 
called his  proposal?  I  laughed  in  sheer  re- 
lief at  the  insanity  of  my  friend's  behavior. 
Common  sense  whispered  vague,  indefinite 
doubts  as  to  his  sanity;  but  as  I  knew  some- 
thing of  what  the  reasons  for  his  actions  were 
I  put  aside  my  fears. 

At  least  he  had  a  spark  of  honor  left,  for  he 
had  realized  that  he  could  not  marry  Janet 
Negley  with  such  a  crime  on  his  conscience. 
I  alternated  between  joy  and  despondency. 
Bennett  was  no  longer  my  rival,  but  was  I  any 
nearer  to  winning  Janet  than  before? 

Her  manner  had  been  decidedly  encourag- 
ing. I  recalled  her  words:  "Possibly  I  like 
you  more  than  I  care  to  acknowledge."  But 

why  should  she  not  want  to  acknowledge  that 

122 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       123 

she  cared  for  me?  What  reason  had  she  for 
hiding  her  emotion  or  refusing  to  give  me  her 
answer  at  once? 

A  thought  came  to  my  mind  that  dazed  me : 
"Is  the  Persian  tassel  the  reason  for  her  hesi- 
tancy?" 

My  mentioning  the  incident  of  the  lost  tassel 
had  brought  the  color  to  her  cheeks,  and  her 
agitation  had  not  gone  unobserved,  although 
my  proximity  to  her  at  the  time  had  diverted 
all  other  thoughts  than  those  of  my  love. 
Away  from  her  I  could  think  more  clearly. 
Her  stubborn  refusal  to  give  me  her  answer 
made  this  tassel  seem  my  most  mortal  enemy. 
The  reason  for  its  loss  must  be  divulged. 

The  story  Phyllis  had  told  came  to  my  mind 
again,  and  subconsciously  I  began  to  feel  in 
some  uncomfortable  way  that  Janet  was  con- 
nected with  the  murder.  I  passed  my  hand 
across  my  forehead  in  bewilderment,  trying, 
as  it  were,  to  wipe  the  thought  from  my  mind. 
But  it  had  taken  a  powerful  hold  upon  me  and 
I  found  I  could  not  dismiss  it  so  easily. 

I  must  think  it  all  out  for  myself.  To  try 
to  hide  or  stifle  the  thought  only  made  it  burn 
the  more  insistently.  I  grew  drunk  with  my 
thoughts  as  I  walked  faster  and  turned  my 
steps  toward  the  park. 


124       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

But  I  must  cure  myself  of  the  doubt.  I  was 
mad  to  think  of  such  a  thing  anyway.  The 
sweet  vision  of  Janet  arose  and  I  threw  myself 
face  downward  on  a  bench,  exhausted  with 
mental  suffering.  Bennett  was  guilty  of  the 
murder;  how  could  I  doubt  Janet? 

Then  the  circumstances  confronted  me. 
The  girl's  agitation  at  the  mention  of  the  lost 
tassel,  the  story  of  Phyllis,  and  Janet's  re- 
fusal to  give  me  her  answer  had  all  made  an 
indelible  impression  upon  my  brain. 

I  became  bolder  in  my  analysis  and  still 
more  erratic.  Suppose  she  were  implicated 
in  the  murder  of  her  father ;  was  it  of  any  great 
importance?  If  she  were,  there  must  have 
been  some  good  reason  for  her  act.  Could  a 
girl  of  her  purity  and  moral  strength  stoop  to 
crime  unless  it  was  unpreventable?  If  so, 
was  she  not  to  be  forgiven.  Possibly  her 
father  deserved  his  fate.  I  was  trying  to  per- 
suade myself  of  her  innocence. 

Why  not  take  the  Irish  view:  was  she  not 
a  heroine,  even  if  guilty?  Was  the  crime  not 
justifiable?  Would  she  not  be  the  more  ador- 
able on  account  of  the  strength  of  a  brave  and 
fearless  character?  Did  not  some  one  have  to 
have  justice?  Were  all  laws  not  questionable? 
Could  a  girl  of  her  delicacy  and  fine  sensibility 


do  any  great  wrong?  No!  No!  She  was  jus- 
tified in  committing  the  crime!  I  forced  that 
idea  upon  my  mind;  she  was  a  heroine  in  my 
eyes. 

I  jumped  from  the  bench  in  haste.  My 
imagination  now  powerfully  stimulated,  I 
walked  hurriedly  through  the  park.  Several 
policemen  turned  and  gazed  at  me  and  many 
people  stared;  I  paid  no  attention  but  hurried 
on  as  one  bereft  of  reason.  I  walked  for  hours 
and  hours,  up  one  street  and  down  another;  I 
took  car  rides,  then  subway  rides,  rode  on  the 
Elevated,  and  finally  again  began  to  walk  the 
streets,  my  mind  a  whirl  of  madness. 

If  Janet  would  only  say  she  would  marry 
me,  all  this  doubt  and  uncertainty  would 
vanish.  I  would  marry  her  in  spite  of  my  sus- 
picion. My  only  fear  was  that  she  would  not 
marry  me  because  of  some  secret  implication 
in  the  crime.  I  knew  deep  down  in  my  heart 
that  she  was  not  guilty,  for  Bennett  was  the 
one  to  whom  circumstantial  evidence  really 
pointed.  Still,  in  some  baffling  way,  she  was 
interwoven  with  the  tangle. 

It  was  now  dark  and  Broadway  was  alight 
with  noise  and  excitement.  I  had  been  walk- 
ing since  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and 
still  I  did  not  feel  tired.  My  brain  was 


126       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

fagged,  but  physically  I  felt  strong  and  could 
have  walked  on  for  several  hours,  although 
it  was  now  eight  o'clock.  Many  vehicles 
crowded  the  streets  and  entrances  to  the 
theaters,  and  the  idea  of  entering  one  of  the 
places  of  amusement  arose  in  my  mind,  but  I 
at  once  dismissed  the  thought,  for  I  knew  that 
the  hours  would  drag,  and  that  it  would  be 
impossible  for  me  to  concentrate  my  mind  upon 
anything  but  my  own  wild  thoughts. 

Why  not  telephone  to  Janet  and  suggest 
our  spending  the  evening  together?  The 
thought  was  no  sooner  in  my  mind  than  it  was 
acted  upon.  I  crossed  the  street,  went  into  a 
drug  store,  and  telephoned.  Vi  answered  the 
call. 

Janet,  she  said,  had  gone  to  mail  a  letter 
and  would  be  back  in  a  few  minutes. 

I  decided  to  wait  a  half -hour  before  calling 
again,  so  I  sauntered  out  of  the  store  and  made 
my  way  to  Bennett's  office,  which  was  hardly 
a  block  away.  Two  of  Bennett's  assistants 
were  working  over  some  copy  in  the  outer 
room  as  I  entered. 

"Is  Mr.  Bennett  in?"  I  asked. 

"No,  Mr.  Powell,  he  left  about  fifteen  min- 
utes ago.  A  messenger  brought  him  a  note 
and  he  went  away  hurriedly." 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       127 

"Didn't  he  say  when  he'd  return?" 

"No,  I  don't  believe  he  will  be  back 
to-night." 

"I  want  to  use  his  telephone,"  I  said,  as  I 
went  into  his  private  office. 

Bennett's  desk  was  as  usual  in  disorder.  I 
could  hardly  find  the  telephone  amid  the  dif- 
ferent sorts  of  paraphernalia  that  covered  it. 
Papers  were  strewn  over  it;  a  discarded  pair 
of  gloves  lay  on  one  side;  an  empty  cigar-box 
was  upon  the  ink-well;  and  a  box  of  rubber 
bands  lay  spilling  out  its  contents. 

Nowhere  could  I  find  a  pen  or  pencil.  A 
dozen  or  more  files  filled  to  bursting  were  at 
one  side  of  the  desk.  In  one  of  the  pigeon- 
holes there  lay  an  ash  tray  filled  with  half 
smoked  cigars.  Bennett  was  a  great  smoker, 
despite  the  sign  above  his  desk:  "No  Smok- 
ing Allowed." 

I  smiled  at  the  incongruity  of  his  character. 
As  I  sat  there  in  his  office  I  thought  of  the 
loyal  friendship  that  had  existed  between  us 
for  many  years,  of  our  college  days  together,  of 
our  love  for  each  other,  then  the  end, — this. 
I  looked  around  the  desolate  room  and  a  feel- 
ing of  pity  took  possession  of  me.  Jealousy 
removed,  my  old-time  friendship  for  Ben- 
nett returned;  and  I  knew  then  that  it  had 


128       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

never  gone,  but  had  only  been  stifled  for  the 
time  being  by  a  greater  love  than  that  which 
I  felt  for  him.  Whatever  his  faults  or  mis- 
deeds, I  would  stand  by  him.  Circumstances 
had  overcome  him,  and  he  had  fallen ;  should  I 
be  the  one  to  cast  the  first  stone?  Never.  I 
would  wait,  and  some  day  he  would  tell  me  all. 
His  sufferings  were  greater  than  mine,  and  I 
would  be  true  to  the  end. 

Perhaps  the  want  of  money  had  influenced 
him  to  fall.  Yet  how  could  that  be?  Ben- 
nett's magazine  was  doing  as  well  as  that  of 
any  of  his  competitors.  He  must  have  made 
money  in  the  past.  But  what  had  he  done  with 
it?  He  and  Vi  were  not  extravagant  in  any 
sense.  Could  he  have  been  speculating?  I 
had  never  known  him  to  do  so,  but  possibly  it 
was  a  recently  acquired  passion  concerning 
which  I  had  been  kept  in  the  dark.  Yes,  I  de- 
cided that  this  must  be  where  his  money  had 
gone.  For  the  past  three  years  he  had  com- 
plained constantly  of  his  finances,  yet  the 
magazine  was  growing  rapidly.  It  was  un- 
doubtedly making  money  for  him, — consider- 
able money,  too.  And  this  was  where  it  went, 
— lost  in  speculation.  Poor  Bennett!  My 
heart  fairly  ached  for  my  friend. 

My  head  was  still  bowed  over  the  desk  when 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       129 

I  remembered  my  desire  to  talk  with  Janet. 
I  looked  at  my  watch.  Good  heavens!  it  was 
nearly  nine  o'clock.  I  had  been  in  the  office 
all  this  time.  It  was  now  too  late  to  call  on 
Janet,  but  maybe  she  would  let  me  come  over 
for  a  few  minutes,  even  at  this  hour;  at  any 
rate  I  must  talk  to  her — hear  her  voice. 

I  pulled  the  telephone  over  to  me,  but,  in 
order  to  find  a  smooth  resting-place  for  it,  I 
had  to  remove  some  of  the  litter  on  the  desk. 
As  I  swept  the  letters,  papers,  and  manu- 
scripts to  one  side  a  sheet  of  yellow  paper  at- 
tracted my  attention.  I  picked  it  up  and 
read : 

"Abduct  J.     Confession — marriage." 

What  did  this  mean?  I  read  it  again  and 
again.  It  was  Bennett's  writing;  I  could 
swear  to  that.  A  panic  of  fear  seized  me. 
Were  these  Bennett's  plans?  Was  he  going 
to  abduct  Janet,  confess  to  her  his  part  of. the 
crime,  then  force  her  to  marry  him?  I  had 
turned  the  sheet  and  found  on  the  other  side  a 
paragraph  that  added  to  my  agitation: 

"Meet  me  this  evening.  We  will  discuss 
terms  of  abduction.  13  Riverside." 

So  that  was  where  Bennett  had  gone  this 
evening.  What  had  I  better  do?  I  talked 
aloud  to  myself,  pacing  the  floor  the  while.  I 


130       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

would  warn  Janet  in  the  morning,  if  she  would 
not  let  me  come  out  to-night.  Bennett  was 
evidently  madly  in  love  with  her  and  would 
have  her  at  any  cost.  This  thought  again 
aroused  the  jealousy  that  I  had  thought  en- 
tirely gone. 

I  did  not  know  what  to  do  first;  so  many 
thing  suggested  themselves  as  imperative  that 
I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  as  to  what  would 
be  the  most  expedient  course  to  pursue.  I 
could  not  tell  Janet  anything  over  the  tele- 
phone. 

The  telephone  rang  several  times  before  I 
was  sufficiently  shaken  from  my  thoughts  to 
answer.  Then  I  said: 

"Hello!  ...  No,  Mr.  Bennett  is  not 
in  ...  Oh,  is  it  you,  Vi?  .  .  .  Yes, — Clarke 
.  .  .  Worried  about  Janet — why,  what's  the 
trouble?  .  .  .  Hasn't  come  back?  .  .  .  No, 
I  haven't  been  to  my  room  this  evening. 
That's  strange.  I'll  come  out  at  once  .  .  . 
Yes,  at  once." 

I  thrust  the  bit  of  yellow  paper  in  my  pocket 
and  hurried  from  the  office.  It  was  nine 
o'clock  and  Janet  had  not  returned.  Could  it 
be  possible  that  my  suspicions  were  correct? 
Had  Bennett  already  abducted  Janet? 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       131 

The  conversation  I  had  heard  the  preceding 
day  in  the  tavern  verified,  in  one  sense,  this 
letter. 

"This  new  proposition  sounds  mighty  good 
to  me."  "It's  a  dead  easy  game."  Was  that 
not  what  they  had  said?  What  did  it  all 
mean?  Undoubtedly  these  men  were  con- 
nected with  the  scheme  of  abduction.  But 
could  this  be?  The  men  had  said  nothing 
about  abduction.  Still,  I  felt  instinctively 
that  their  plans  were  connected  in  some  way 
with  the  note  I  had  found  on  Bennett's  desk. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  Janet  might  have 
gone  home.  She  had  said  she  was  going.  Of 
course — what  a  fool  I  had  been!  She  must 
have  merely  decided  to  go  to  Shetland. 

But  would  she  leave  in  such  an  abrupt  man- 
ner, without  saying  anything  to  Vi?  She  had 
accepted  Vi's  care  and  hospitality  for  over  a 
week,  and  I  knew  she  would  not  go  without 
making  some  explanation.  Probably  I  would 
find  her  at  Vi's,  after  all.  She  might  have 
gone  to  a  hundred  different  places;  perhaps 
she  was  taking  a  long  walk,  or  had  met  a 
friend  and  had  stopped  to  talk  for  a  while. 
Then  I  recalled  that  she  had  no  friends,  not 
even  an  acquaintance  in  the  city. 


132       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

I  had  lived  through  eight  of  the  most  stren- 
uous days  of  my  life,  a  life  that  now  seemed 
topsy-turvy. 

When  I  reached  the  Bennett  house  Vi 
opened  the  door. 

"Hasn't  she  returned?"  I  asked,  trying  to 
hide  the  anxiety  in  my  tones  as  I  entered  and 
closed  the  door. 

"No,  Clarke,  she  has  not;  and  I'm  worried. 
You  know  Janet  knows  no  one  in  the  city,  and 
I  fear  she  has  taken  a  walk  and  is  lost.  I 
don't  believe  she  even  took  her  purse. 
She  said  she  was  just  going  to  the  corner  to 
mail  a  letter,  and  she  has  been  out  for  an  hour 
and  a  half.  It  seems  idiotic  for  us  to  worry 
about  her,  she's  no  child;  still,  in  New  York 
such  dreadful  things  happen,  and  Janet 
knows  absolutely  nothing  of  the  city.  Do  you 
think  she  could  have  taken  a  walk  in  the  park?" 

I  had  listened  to  Vi's  talk  as  if  in  a  dream, 
but  her  question  awoke  me. 

"I  hardly  think  so,  Vi ;  it  is  so  dark  to-night." 

"I  didn't  become  uneasy,"  continued  Vi, 
"until  a  quarter  of  nine.  Walt  came  in — he 
stayed  down-town  for  dinner — about  eight- 
thirty  and  asked  for  Janet.  He  seemed  dread- 
fully worried  over  something,  and  when  I 
told  him  Janet  had  gone  to  mail  a  letter 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       133 

about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  before,  he  be- 
came very  angry.  He  said  I  shouldn't  have 
let  her  go  out  alone  after  dark  here  in  New 
York,  that  I  should  have  accompanied  her. 
He  was  very  nervous  and  wrought  up  over  my 
indiscretion,  as  he  called  it,  and  left  immedi- 
ately. I  thought  he'd  gone  after  her,  to  the 
corner;  but  he  hasn't  returned.  I  couldn't 
get  him  on  the  'phone ;  then  I  became  actually 
worried.  I  'phoned  to  you  at  your  rooms,  but 
you  were  out;  then  I  called  up  Walt's  office 
again,  thinking  he  might  have  gone  back  there 
for  some  reason ;  and  I  fortunately  found  you 
there." 

I  was  only  partly  listening  to  what  she  was 
saying.  My  thoughts  were  so  complicated 
and  her  explanation  seemed  so  trivial. 

"I  will  go  out  and  hunt  for  her,"  I  said 
quickly.  "She  has  probably  only  taken  a 
walk.  I'll  find  her  if  I  have  to  scour  all  New 
York,  so  don't  worry." 

When  I  found  myself  on  the  street  I  was 
yet  undecided  as  to  how  to  begin.  I  had  never 
realized  before  how  vast  New  York  really  was. 
The  night  was  dark, — shrouded,  as  it  were,  in 
mystery.  I  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn. 
I  could  not  go  to  the  police,  although  that 
was  the  most  natural  and  expedient  course  to 


134       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

pursue.     As  a  last  resort  I  might  do  so,  but 
first  I  would  exhaust  my  own  resources. 

I  turned  my  steps  toward  a  corner  where  I 
saw  a  mail-box.  This  was  evidently  the  direc- 
tion that  Janet  had  just  taken,  as  upon  the 
other  corner  there  was  no  box.  I  passed  up 
and  down  the  adjacent  streets;  then  I  decided 
at  once  to  go  to  Shetland.  Possibly  she  had 
gone  home  and  had  left  in  this  abrupt  manner 
to  escape  the  necessity  of  explaining  to  Vi  just 
why  she  wished  to  go.  She  could  write  to  her 
later,  giving  a  reason  for  her  sudden  departure. 
At  any  rate,  I  would  go  out  to  Shetland  and 
see  for  myself.  I  felt  that  I  should  find  her 
there. 


CHAPTER  XI 

PURSUIT 

I  WALKED  hurriedly  down  the  street  in 
the  direction  of  the  subway,  which  was 
some  five  or  six  blocks  distant.  Passing  a 
small  drug  store  at  the  corner,  I  stopped  under 
an  electric  light,  looked  at  my  watch,  then 
turned  and  entered  the  store. 

A  young  clerk  was  busy  behind  the  counter. 
I  walked  up  to  him  and  said: 

"Can  you  give  me  the  'phone  number  of  the 
nearest  taxi  station?  I'm  in  a  big  hurry,  and 
don't  want  to  stop  and  take  time  to  look  it 
up." 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  replied  quickly.  "It  is  44 
Harlem.  There  is  the  'phone  over  there, 
pointing  to  the  corner  by  the  door. 

Entering  the  booth,  I  inserted  a  coin  and 
took  up  the  receiver.  A  quick  response  came. 

"Yes,  a  taxi,"  I  called.  "Send  it  over  at 
once  to  the  Euclid  Pharmacy.  Hurry  up; 
don't  keep  me  waiting." 

Hanging  up  the  receiver,  I  was  just  ready 

135 


136       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

to  step  out  when  I  noticed  a  stamped  addressed 
envelope  on  the  telephone  box.  Some  one 
had  forgotten  to  mail  it  and  had  left  it  there; 
so  I  took  it  up,  intending  to  hand  it  to  the 
clerk ;  but  upon  reading  the  inscribed  name  and 
address  I  became  anxious  and  alarmed.  The 
writing  was  undoubtedly  a  woman's  and  the 
address  was: 

"Miss  Phyllis  Downs,  Shetland  Suburb, 
N.  Y." 

I  immediately  called  the  clerk. 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  this  en- 
velope,— who  left  it  here?"  I  asked,  holding 
up  the  envelope  before  him.  "I  found  it  in 
the  booth." 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  letter,  but 
I  held  it  while  scrutinizing  him  closely. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said  slowly.  "Wait,  let 
me  think.  Yes,  it  must  belong  to  the  gentle- 
man who  came  in  about  two  hours  ago." 

"Gentleman?"  I  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  a  doctor;  he  was  the  last  one  to  use 
the  'phone  before  you  came.  It  must  belong 
to  him;  he  was  in  a  great  hurry,  and  had  me 
look  up  the  taxicab  number.  He  was  looking 
after  a  young  woman  that  he  brought  in  here 
ill.  That's  how  I  happened  to  know  the 
taxi's  number ;  it  was  fresh  in  my  mind.  Give 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       137 

me  the  letter;  he'll  happen  in  again  and  I'll 
give  it  to  him." 

"You  say  he  brought  in  a  woman  who  was 
ill?  What  did  she  look  like?  What  did  the 
doctor  look  like?"  I  tried  not  to  appear 
anxious,  for  fear  of  arousing  the  fellow's  sus- 
picions, but  I  was  under  a  fearful  strain. 

"I  can't  recall  much  about  the  girl,"  he  re- 
plied, not  seeming  to  notice  my  agitation. 
"She  was  unconscious  when  the  doctor  brought 
her  in  here,  and  I  did  not  see  her  face.  She 
was  young,  probably  about  seventeen,  and  was 
a  blonde  of  medium  height  and  slender  build." 

"Yes,  yes,"  I  ejaculated,  fairly  taking  the 
words  out  of  his  mouth.  "Fair,  slender,  and 
a  blonde.  It  is  she." 

I  turned  upon  him  abruptly;  my  breathing 
was  quick  and  labored,  and  my  hands  trembled. 
"Tell  me — tell  me  what  the  doctor  looked  like! 
I  can't  explain  my  interest  in  these  persons,  but 
it  is  necessary  for  you  to  tell  me  exactly  how 
they  looked." 

The  clerk  glanced  at  me  inquiringly,  hesi- 
tated, and  seemed  reluctant  to  proceed.  I  saw 
immediately  that  I  would  have  to  reassure  him 
in  some  way. 

"Look  here,"  I  said,  taking  him  by  the  arm. 
"These  are  the  very  people  I  have  been  look- 


138       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

ing  for.  The  man  has  abducted  the  girl. 
Now  tell  me  what  he  looked  like,  man;  don't 
keep  me  in  suspense." 

Evidently  my  emotion  and  the  emphasis  of 
my  words  assured  him  of  my  integrity,  for  he 
at  once  proceeded  to  describe  the  doctor. 

"He  was  of  medium  height,  sort  of  stocky, 
red  hair,  and — " 

"Boyish  looking,"  I  interrupted,  "with  a 
smooth  face,  feminine  in  features,  nose  slightly 
Roman?" 

"Yes,  you  are  describing  him  exactly,"  he 
said  emphatically. 

"But  you  called  him  doctor?"  I  queried. 

"Yes,  he's  Doctor  Bennett,"  replied  the 
clerk,  looking  up  at  me  in  alarm.  "At  least, 
that  is  what  I  supposed.  He  gave  me  two 
prescriptions;  but  wait — I'll  get  them." 

A  moment  later  he  returned  and  presented 
two  prescriptions,  each  stamped  "Dr.  Ben- 
nett." I  read  them  carefully.  The  hand- 
writing was  Bennett's;  he  had  evidently  dis- 
guised it  by  a  backward  stroke;  it  was  small 
and  turned  to  the  left  in  a  scraggly,  uneven 
manner,  as  if  it  had  been  written  by  one  whose 
nerves  were  shattered  or  by  an  amateur  who 
was  making  his  first  attempt  to  disguise  his 
writing. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       139 

I  took  my  pencil,  tore  off  a  piece  of  white 
wrapping-paper  from  the  roll  on  the  counter, 
and  hastily  made  a  copy  of  each  of  the  pre- 
scriptions, imitating  the  originals  as  closely  as 
possible. 

"You  don't  mind  my  making  a  copy  of  these 
prescriptions?"  I  asked,  as  I  placed  the  piece 
of  paper  in  my  pocket.  "I  want  it  as  a  pre- 
caution, or  clue,  in  case  something  criminal 
should  happen.  You  understand,  of  course, 
as  a  pharmacist,  that  this  particular  mixture  is 
a  fatal  dose,  if  given  to  one  not  habituated  to 
the  use  of  morphine." 

"Oh,  yes,  sir;  but  one  can't  refuse  a  doctor, 
and—" 

"Yes,  I  know,  I  understand,"  I  responded 
quickly.  I  did  not  want  to  let  the  clerk  know 
that  Bennett  was  not  a  regular  physician,  and 
had  not  been  one  for  ten  years. 

"I  judge  you  are  a  professional  detective, 
sir,"  remarked  the  clerk. 

"Yes,"  I  prevaricated,  "that's  my  business 
at  the  present  time.  You  have  no  idea  as  to 
where  these  people  went  after  leaving  here?" 

"No,  sir;  but  you  might  find  out  at  the  taxi 
office." 

"Good,"  I  replied,  "I'll  go  down  there  at 
once." 


140       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

I  hurried  through  the  door  and  my  car  drove 
up  just  as  I  entered  the  street.  I  directed 
the  driver  back  to  the  taxicab  office  scarcely  a 
dozen  blocks  away.  When  I  entered  the 
room  I  explained  my  errand  and  asked  for  the 
driver  who  had  called  at  the  Euclid  Pharmacy 
for  a  man  and  a  girl  about  eight  o'clock  that 
evening. 

The  office  clerk  looked  over  the  book  of  calls, 
then  said  to  me : 

"Number  146  called  at  the  Euclid  Pharmacy 
at  eight-thirty  this  evening,  sir.  You  have  the 
same  driver." 

"All  right,"  I  answered,  hastily  leaving. 

I  learned  from  the  chauffeur  that  he  had 
taken  a  young  lady  and  a  gentleman  from 
the  pharmacy  into  the  city  about  eight-thirty. 
Jumping  into  the  car,  I  gave  him  instructions 
to  drive  me  to  the  same  place. 

It  was  nearly  an  hour  later  when  we  stopped 
in  a  dark  street,  in  the  middle  of  a  row  of  frame 
and  brick  buildings.  The  dim  lights  at  each 
corner  of  the  street  gave  hardly  any  illumina- 
tion to  the  dark,  narrow  thoroughfare. 

"Where  are  we?"  I  asked,  alighting  from 
the  cab. 

"On  Twelfth  Street,  sir,"  replied  the  driver. 
"That's  the  house  over  there."  He  indicated 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       141 

the  dingy  frame  building  directly  in  front  of 
us. 

I  immediately  recognized  it  as  the  one  I  had 
seen  the  two  men  entering  the  day  I  followed 
them  from  the  tavern. 

"Wait  for  me,"  I  said,  as  I  entered  the  iron 
gate. 

Recalling  that  the  men  I  had  followed  from 
the  tavern  had  gone  into  the  house  through  the 
basement,  I  decided  to  do  likewise,  so  I  de- 
scended the  rickety  stairway. 

A  dim  light  shone  through  the  iron  bars  of 
a  cellar  window.  I  shuddered  at  the  thought 
that  Janet  Negley  was  there.  Going  down  a 
long  flight  of  steps,  I  at  last  reached  the  bot- 
tom, where  a  space  about  fifteen  feet  square 
directly  faced  the  door.  It  was  so  dark  I 
could  not  find  the  bell,  and  I  ran  my  hand  over 
the  surface  of  the  door,  feeling  for  a  knocker 
or  for  some  means  of  making  my  presence 
known.  I  could  find  nothing,  so  I  began  to 
beat  upon  the  door  with  my  clenched  fist. 

I  waited  three  minutes — five  minutes — but 
not  a  sound  came  from  the  interior.  I  knocked 
again  with  all  my  might,  and  this  time  the  door 
was  opened  to  me.  A  large,  stupid-looking 
German  woman  stood  before  me. 

"I  wish  to  speak  to  Dr.  Bennett  and   the 


142       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

young  girl  he  brought  here  this  evening,"  I 
said  firmly,  stepping  into  the  dark  hall. 

"Sie  sind  nicht  hier." 

"Not  here!"  I  had  entered  the  hall  and  I 
pushed  the  woman  to  one  side  angrily.  "Not 
here!" 

"Sie  sind  nicht  hier,"  persisted  the  woman 
stolidly.  "Sie  kamen  hier  heute  Abende,  aber 
sie  sind  jetz  fort." 

I  demanded  to  be  shown  through  the  ad- 
joining room.  It  was  evidently  a  bedroom 
and  sitting-room  combined ;  for  there  were  two 
beds  and  a  cot  while  a  wooden  rocker  and  a 
round  table  occupied  the  center  of  the  room. 
The  next  room  was  a  kitchen.  A  dim  gas-jet 
threw  an  indistinct  glow  throughout  the  dirty 
apartment.  A  third  room,  to  the  left  of  the 
kitchen,  attracted  my  attention. 

The  door  was  closed.  I  walked  over  and 
threw  it  wide  open.  The  room  was  vacant. 
An  iron  bed  and  one  chair  comprised  its  entire 
furnishings. 

The  woman  followed  me  around  in  a  dazed 
manner,  giving  no  information  and  asking  no 
questions.  She  could  scarcely  speak  English 
although  she  seemed  to  understand  it  quite 
well.  Finally  I  managed  to  ascertain  this 
much:  Bennett  himself  had  not  been  there 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       143 

that  evening,  but  the  girl  and  a  man  had  been 
there  and  had  left  shortly  afterward. 

"Are  they  coming  back  to-night?"  I  asked. 

The  woman  looked  at  me  blankly  and  I  knew 
she  had  not  understood.  "Will  they  come 
back  again, — back  here  to  this  room?  I  re- 
peated. 

"Nein,"  she  answered,  shaking  her  head. 

I  was  now  convinced  of  the  woman's  sin- 
cerity. They  would  not  return. 

"Where  did  they  go?"  I  questioned,  gesticu- 
lating toward  the  door  to  make  my  query  clear. 

"Nein,  nein,"  answered  the  woman,  with  ex- 
asperating repetition. 

I  put  a  coin  in  her  hand,  and  left.  Jump- 
ing into  the  taxicab,  I  called  to  the  driver : 

"To  the  Central  Station." 

I  had  not  realized  until  I  sat  back  in  the  cab 
and  relaxed  my  tense  nerves  what  a  hopeless 
mission  I  had  undertaken  in  trying  to  find 
Janet  and  her  abductors.  I  had  been  very 
hopeful  until  I  had  entered  the  house  on 
Twelfth  Street.  There  my  hopes  had  been 
shattered.  That  Bennett  or  his  accomplice 
would  bring  Janet  Negley  to  that  squalid  re- 
sort was  inconceivable.  But  Bennett  was  evi- 
dently desperate,  and  had  lost  all  sense  of 
honor  and  manhood. 


144       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

Janet  was  unconscious  or  ill,  so  the  drug 
clerk  had  said,  when  they  came  to  the  store. 
They  had  evidently  drugged  her. 

The  prescription  calling  for  morphine  was 
an  unique  clue,  inasmuch  as  the  ingredients 
were  so  powerful  that  only  one  accustomed  to 
the  constant  use  of  the  drug  could  take  the 
amount  prescribed.  Bennett  was  not  a  drug 
fiend,  but  possibly  one  of  his  accomplices  was; 
or  the  presentation  of  the  prescription  might 
have  been  merely  a  ruse  to  enable  them  to 
carry  the  supposedly  sick  girl  into  the  phar- 
macy while  they  telephoned  for  a  taxicab. 

Bennett  had  been  at  one  time  a  practicing 
physician.  The  more  I  thought  over  the  situ- 
ation the  more  agonizing  was  my  anxiety,  and 
I  was  in  a  fearful  state  of  apprehension  when 
we  drove  up  before  the  station. 

I  found  I  had  ten  minutes  to  wait  before 
catching  a  train  for  Shetland.  I  walked  about 
the  spacious  waiting-room,  impatiently  looking 
at  my  watch,  then  at  the  station  timepiece. 
One  minute — two  minutes — would  the  time 
never  pass? 

I  wanted  to  be  off.  Shetland  was  an  ade- 
quate place  of  hiding.  The  large  vacant  house 
was  just  the  place,  and  I  felt  sure  the  idea 
would  come  to  Bennett  as  it  had  to  me.  I 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       145 

wanted  to  go  to  Shetland,  yet  I  feared  to  go; 
for  if  they  were  not  there,  I  would  simply  have 
wasted  so  much  time.  It  was  now  twelve- 
thirty,  and  it  would  be  after  one  o'clock  before 
I  could  reach  Shetland. 

Remembering  the  letter  addressed  to  Phyllis 
Downs,  I  took  it  from  my  pocket  and  looked  at 
the  writing.  This  was  the  letter  Janet  had 
meant  to  mail.  Janet  had  probably  written  to 
Phyllis  of  her  expectation  to  return  to  Shet- 
land immediately.  The  letter  should  be 
mailed.  Crossing  the  waiting  room,  I  dropped 
it  into  a  box,  then  hurried  out  through  the  gate 
and  boarded  my  train. 

The  Talmar  residence,  weird  in  its  desola- 
tion, gleamed  specter-like  in  the  broad  street 
as  I  approached.  All  at  once  as  I  stood  there 
facing  the  house  it  seemed  to  me  that  a  hazy, 
misty  form,  crouched  and  bent,  emerged  upon 
the  porch.  It  was  the  form  of  Dr.  Talmar, 
old  and  decrepit,  with  a  hypnotic  gleam  in  his 
eyes.  In  a  daze,  I  swayed  slightly,  then 
straightened  myself  resolutely  and  looked 
again.  The  hallucination  had  vanished. 

I  was  actually  alarmed,  not  by  what  I  had 
seen  or  thought  I  had  seen,  but  by  the  char- 
acter of  that  malady  that  the  vision  suggested. 
I  must  certainly  be  suffering  from  nervous  ex- 


146       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

haustion.  The  vision  lasted  scarcely  more 
than  a  second,  yet  I  found  myself  trembling 
perceptibly  and  my  forehead  was  clammy  with 
a  cold  perspiration. 

I  knew  it  was  simply  a  fantasy,  evoked  by 
mental  exhaustion  and  worry,  so  I  thrust  the 
incident  from  me  and  ascended  the  steps  of 
the  porch.  The  front  door  was  locked,  as  was 
also  the  door  of  the  doctor's  office.  I  tried  to 
raise  each  one  of  the  windows  in  succession, 
but  they  were  all  securely  fastened.  I  could 
have  easily  made  an  entrance  through  the  de- 
molished part  of  the  doctor's  laboratory,  but  I 
did  not  care  to  pick  my  way  through  the  debris 
scattered  about. 

Vaulting  over  the  porch  railing  at  the  side, 
I  ran  around  to  the  rear  of  the  house.  A  win- 
dow leading  into  the  pantry  was  unlocked,  and 
I  crawled  through  the  small  opening. 

Jumping  to  the  pantry  floor,  which  my  feet 
struck  with  a  heavy  thud,  I  clutched  at  the 
side  of  the  sink  in  order  to  balance  myself.  A 
noise  like  the  shuffling  of  feet  in  the  room  above 
came  to  me,  and  I  stood  quietly  with  one  hand 
upon  the  side  of  the  sink  and  the  other  at  my 
ear;  but  the  noise  had  ceased. 

The  shades  in  the  house  had  all  been  drawn, 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       147 

so  the  rooms  were  very  dark.  I  could  not  see 
in  the  gloom  about  me,  but  with  the  aid  of 
my  hands  I  began  to  feel  my  way  to  the  back 
stairs  which  I  knew  must  lead  up  from  the 
kitchen. 

Again  the  sound  from  above  reached  my 
ears;  but  this  time  it  was  less  distinct,  as  if 
the  person  were  walking  around  the  rooms  in 
the  front  part  of  the  house.  I  at  last  put  my 
hand  upon  a  closed  door.  I  opened  it  slowly, 
but  it  creaked  ominously.  Holding  my  breath 
in  suspense,  I  pushed  the  door  open  inch  by 
inch,  wider  and  wider ;  and  each  time  it  seemed 
that  the  creaking  became  more  resonant.  At 
length  I  threw  the  door  clear  back  to  the  wall. 
Kneeling  on  the  floor  and  passing  through  the 
doorway,  I  found  a  flight  of  steps  that  as- 
cended. I  arose  again  and  accidentally  leaned 
against  the  door;  it  creaked  loudly.  Immedi- 
ately the  sound  above  ceased.  Evidently  the 
person  had  heard  the  noise. 

I  listened  for  a  few  moments,  removed  my 
shoes,  and  proceeded  slowly  up  the  stairs.  I 
could  not  see  my  hand  before  me,  and  I  knew 
absolutely  nothing  of  the  interior  of  that  part 
of  the  house.  Otherwise  I  would  have  been 
able  to  make  more  progress,  but  under  the  cir- 


148       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

cumstances  I  had  to  feel  my  way  carefully  for 
fear  of  falling  headlong  over  some  unforeseen 
obstacle. 

I  crept  up  the  stairs  slowly  on  my  hands  and 
knees.  When  near  the  top  I  stopped  to  listen. 
A  creaking  of  shoes  very  near  me  attracted  my 
attention.  Some  one  was  evidently  descend- 
ing the  front  stairs  with  cautious  steps. 

Without  giving  the  subject  further  thought 
I  bounded  up  the  few  remaining  stairs  and 
groped  my  way  along  the  wall  of  the  upper 
hall.  Suddenly  my  hand  came  in  contact  with 
an  electric  button.  Instinctively  I  pressed  it 
and  at  once  the  hall  was  flooded  with  light. 
Touching  another  button  close  to  the  first  one 
the  down-stairs  light  flashed  up  also. 

I  heard  the  turning  of  the  knob  of  the  front 
door.  Running  down  the  front  stairs,  I  was 
just  in  time  to  see  the  figure  of  a  man  as  he 
made  a  hurried  exit.  He  slammed  the  door  in 
my  face,  vaulted  the  porch,  and  started  to  run. 
I  ran  after  him,  but  he  disappeared  in  the  dark- 
ness. The  man  was  the  consumptive-looking 
fellow  I  had  followed  from  the  tavern  to  the 
house  on  Twelfth  Street. 

Entering  the  house  again,  I  searched  it  thor- 
oughly from  garret  to  cellar.  With  the  aid  of 
the  electric  lights  I  was  enabled  to  take  in  every 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       149 

detail,  but  I  discovered  neither  Janet,  her  ab- 
ductors, nor  any  clue  of  value.  The  drawers 
in  two  of  the  rooms  had  been  ransacked;  they 
were  wide  open  and  the  contents  were  scattered 
over  the  floor.  Evidently  the  fellow's  purpose 
was  to  steal.  I  could  not  tell  how  much  had 
been  taken,  but  everything  in  the  bedroom  and 
library  was  in  disorder. 

What  were  the  man's  plans?  Was  his  er- 
rand nothing  but  theft  ?  I  felt  that  I  had  been 
foolish  in  not  pursuing  him,  and  that  had  I 
been  quicker  and  less  cautious  I  might  have 
trapped  him  in  some  way.  Then  I  could  have 
made  him  confess  by  threatening  him  with  the 
police.  But  I  was  not  armed,  and  no  doubt 
he  was. 

To  waste  more  time  in  Shetland,  I  decided, 
would  be  foolish.  Janet's  abductors  would 
not  bring  her  here  now,  even  if  they  had 
planned  to  do  so,  since  one  of  the  men  knew 
the  house  was  occupied. 

I  hardly  dared  to  think  of  Janet  Negley 
or  what  might  have  befallen  her.  I  must  find 
her.  Intuitively  I  felt  that  it  was  possible. 
There  was  no  use  to  torture  myself  with 
doubts.  The  word  "fail"  I  would  not  con- 
template. No  such  word  existed  for  me,  and 
I  would  prove  it.  The  dread  of  failure  flashed 


150       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

through  my  mind,  but  I  thrust  it  from  me; 
it  was  like  a  corrosive  drug  in  its  intensity, 
and  I  felt  my  throat  tighten  at  the  mere 
thought. 

Entering  the  kitchen,  I  replaced  my  shoes, 
and  made  another  search  through  the  rooms. 
Finally  I  turned  out  the  lights,  and  left  the 
house. 

I  waited  an  hour  for  my  train,  and  put  in 
part  of  the  time  walking  up  and  down  the 
platform  of  the  little  station.  I  was  the  only 
passenger  to  board  the  train  at  Shetland,  and 
that  annoyed  me  greatly ;  secretly  I  had  hoped 
for  the  companionship  of  the  consumptive- 
looking  fellow  in  whom  my  poor  overwrought 
brain  had  discerned  a  psychic  vision  of  the  de- 
ceased Dr.  Talmar.  I  disliked  the  idea  of 
leaving  the  fellow  behind. 

It  was  now  three-thirty.  I  had  been  in 
Shetland  two  hours,  and  had  caught  the  last 
train  until  morning. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  LETTER 

IT  was  just  a  quarter  to  five  when  I  passed 
through  the  Central  Station  waiting-room. 
There  were  a  few  people  scattered  here  and 
there;  some  were  asleep  on  benches,  others 
were  walking  impatiently  about  glancing  now 
and  then  at  the  big  clock  above. 

I  stopped  at  a  restaurant  and  got  a  cup 
of  black  coffee  and  a  sandwich.  I  found  I 
could  not  eat,  but  with  an  effort  I  managed 
to  swallow  the  coffee.  It  greatly  invigorated 
me. 

Leaving  the  dining-room,  I  walked  through 
the  station,  hunting  for  the  telephone  booth. 
Seeing  one  at  the  left  end  of  the  opposite  en- 
trance, I  hurried  in  and  called  the  Bennett 
residence.  After  about  five  minutes  a  woman 
answered.  It  was  the  landlady. 

"Miss  Bennett  is  not  up  yet,"  she  said  sleep- 

iiy. 

I  told  her  to  call  Miss  Bennett  at  once  say- 
ing that  Mr.  Powell  wished  to  see  her  on  im- 

151 


152        THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

portant  business  and  would  come  to  see  her 
about  six  o'clock.  She  promised  to  deliver  the 
message  and  I  left  the  telephone. 

At  the  appointed  time,  to  the  minute,  I 
was  sitting  in  the  parlor  of  the  Bennett  home. 
It  was  fifteen  minutes  before  Vi  entered,  and 
when  she  did  we  both  exclaimed  simultane- 
ously : 

"Where  is  Janet?" 

"You  haven't  found  her,  Clarke?  Tell  me! 
Oh,  it  is  dreadful!  Where  can  she  be?  I 
cried  myself  to  sleep  last  night,"  went  on  Vi, 
in  a  breathless  tone  of  anxiety.  She  talked 
fast  and  I  could  scarcely  understand  her. 
Her  articulation  was  indistinct  and  her  man- 
ner excited. 

All  at  once  she  sat  up  straight,  then  put 
her  hand  to  her  cheek  and  leaned  over  toward 
me,  placing  her  other  hand  upon  my  arm  mys- 
teriously. Her  voice  had  sunk  to  a  whisper 
and  the  hand  upon  my  arm  trembled  percep- 
tibly. "Clarke,"  she  began,  this  time  more 
calmly,  "there  were  burglars  in  this  house  last 
night.  At  first  I  was  so  shocked  that  you 
had  not  found  Janet  that  I  forgot  to  tell  you." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"My  room  and  Walt's  are  in  a  perfect  mud- 
dle; drawers  are  turned  inside  out  and  the 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       153 

closets  ransacked.  Nothing  has  been  taken. 
My  watch  is  still  on  the  dresser,  and  Walt's 
studs  and  several  valuable  stick  pins  are  still 
in  his  room,  while  the  drawers  are  open  and 
the  contents  scattered  over  the  floor.  Isn't  it 
strange  they  didn't  take  anything?" 

"Where  is  Bennett?"  I  asked  abruptly. 

"Down  at  the  Club,  I  suppose.  He  didn't 
sleep  at  home  last  night  nor  the  night  before. 
He  'phoned  and  inquired  about  Janet 
after  you  left — I  think  it  was  near  eleven 
o'clock." 

"When  did  you  first  discover  that  some  one 
had  been  in  your  rooms?"  I  asked,  thinking 
hard.  I  was  trying  to  connect  the  attempted 
robbery  in  some  way  with  Janet's  strange  dis- 
appearance, for  I  intuitively  knew  there  was  a 
connection.  "Does  your  landlady  know  any- 
thing about  the  burglary?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  she  does,  unless  she  has 
been  to  our  rooms  since  I  came  down.  She 
knocked  at  my  door  about  half -past  five,  and 
it  was  then  that  I  made  the  discovery.  I  hur- 
ried my  dressing,  intending  to  inform  her  at 
once,  but  you  came.  You  are  the  first  one  I 
have  told." 

"Vi,"  I  said  reflectively,  "I  don't  believe  I 
would  say  anything  about  this.  If  nothing 


154       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

has  been  stolen  nothing  can  be  gained  by  giv- 
ing the  matter  publicity." 

"But  don't  you  think  it  strange,  Clarke?" 

"Not  nearly  so  strange  as  Janet's  disappear- 
ance," I  replied  with  some  bitterness. 

"Oh,  poor  Janet!  Where  do  you  think  she 
can  be?  Haven't  you  found  any  trace  of  her 
yet,  Clarke?  I  can't  understand  it.  What 
in  the  world  could  have  happened  to  her?" 

I  told  her  of  my  visit  to  Shetland,  of  the 
mysterious  midnight  intruder,  and  of  the 
strange  happenings  at  the  drug  store;  but  I 
said  nothing  about  the  prescriptions  having 
been  presented  by  a  man  whom  I  believed  to 
be  her  brother.  I  kept  that  part  of  the  affair 
to  myself. 

Vi  listened  with  a  tense  expression  to  my 
story,  interrupting  me  now  and  then  to  ask  a 
question,  while  she  held  her  hands  nervously 
clasped  as  if  trying  to  command  herself. 

"Oh,  Clarke!"  she  exclaimed,  when  I  had 
finished  my  story,  "it  does  look  as  if  Janet 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  some  desperate 
character.  What  are  you  going  to  do  now? 
Can't  I  be  of  some  help?  I  will  'phone  Walt 
and  the  three  of  us  will  start  out  this  morning." 
She  arose,  but  I  detained  her  with  a  word. 

"Don't!    Wait;  let  me  think.     Yes,  Vi;  it 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       155 

would  be  better  for  me  to  see  Walt  first.  I'll 
go  straight  to  the  Club  from  here ;  he  will  not 
be  at  his  office  this  early  in  the  morning.  It 
would  simply  be  a  waste  of  time  to  'phone  him. 
Vi,  you  can  be  of  little  use,  for  this  is  a  man's 
business  and  it  takes  a  man  to  handle  it." 

"Why  not  report  the  case  to  the  police, 
Clarke?" 

"No,  I  would  rather  see  what  I  can  do  my- 
self first.  Dr.  Talmar's  death  brought  Janet 
so  much  notoriety  that  if  we  can  handle  this 
affair  quietly  it  will  be  much  better;  but,  of 
course,  if  I  fail  to  find  her  within  the  next 
twenty-four  hours  there  will  be  nothing  left 
for  us  to  do  but  inform  the  police.  I  do  not 
want  to  do  it  sooner." 

"Possibly  you  are  right.  Anyway,  I  know 
that  you  and  Walt,  working  together,  can 
surely  find  some  trace  of  her.  You  have  al- 
ready found  out  a  great  deal  in  learning  that 
she  has  been  abducted.  It  is  a  horrible 
thought,  and  I  dare  not  dwell  upon  it,  Clarke." 

"If  I  do  not  call  you  up  by  noon,  you  may 
know  I  have  not  been  successful  and  am  still 
on  the  trail.  Otherwise  I  shall  advise  you  at 
once.  I'll  drop  in  on  Walt  at  the  Club  on 
my  way  to  town  ...  I  believe  I  would  say 
nothing  at  all  about  the  robbery  here  last  night. 


156       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

If  your  landlady  knew  she  might  insist  upon 
informing  the  police.  In  that  case  something 
might  develop  to  prevent  my  finding  Janet." 

"You  think  there  is  some  connection  between 
this  attempted  burglary  and  Janet's  abduc- 
tion?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered;  "decidedly  some  connec- 
tion." 

I  learned  at  the  Club  that  Bennett  had  not 
been  there  since  the  previous  night.  As  there 
seemed  to  be  nothing  else  to  do  until  I  talked 
with  him,  and  as  I  knew  I  would  not  find  him 
at  his  office  so  early,  I  entered  the  Imperial 
Hotel,  bought  a  morning  paper,  and  ran  my 
eyes  over  the  headlines,  hoping  to  find  some 
reference  to  the  Talmar  tragedy.  There  was 
nothing,  however. 

Being  unable  to  concentrate  my  mind  for 
any  length  of  time,  I  threw  aside  the  paper. 
I  was  so  nervous  that  I  felt  the  necessity  of 
taking  some  sort  of  stimulant,  so  I  bought  a 
strong,  black  cigar.  As  I  started  to  leave  a 
man  came  out  of  the  cafe  at  the  left.  He  was 
coming  my  way,  and  I  went  forward  to  meet 
him,  puffing  furiously  at  my  cigar. 

"Bennett!"  I  ejaculated,  extending  my 
hand.  He  looked  at  me  in  surprise  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  I  said; 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       157 

:<  I  was  just  at  the  Club  inquiring  for  you." 

"You  are  a  rather  early  bird,"  he  remarked. 

"So  I  am,  but  how  about  yourself?  It  is 
just  seven- thirty,"  pulling  out  my  watch. 

"Yes;  and  I  have  not  been  to  bed  at  all, 
Powell.  I  have  been  hunting  for  Janet  Neg- 
ley." 

I  was  startled  and  must  have  shown  my  sur- 
prise, for  he  added: 

"You  knew  she  was  lost?" 

I  recovered  myself  with  an  effort.  "Knew 
she  was  lost !  Man,  you  talk  idiotically.  I've 
spent  the  whole  night  hunting  for  her, — in 
Shetland  and  everywhere  else." 

I  spoke  bitterly,  at  the  same  time  never  tak- 
ing my  eyes  from  his  face.  He  was  calm  and 
confident ;  I  was  the  reverse.  His  declaration, 
"I've  been  hunting  for  Janet  Negley,"  rang 
in  my  ears;  everything  else  seemed  muffled, 
indistinct.  Bennett  was  a  shrewd  one;  why 
had  he  not  waited  for  me  to  speak  of 
Janet  ? 

"I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you,  Walt,"  I 
said  pointedly. 

"Naturally.  Where  shall  we  go — to  my 
office,  or  your  rooms?" 

"One  is  as  distant  as  the  other,"  I  responded. 
"Let's  get  a  room  here." 


158       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"Why  so  much  secrecy?  Won't  the  lobby 
do?  No  one  is  about." 

"No,  not  here;  but  we  might  go  to  the  par- 
lor." 

"All  right,"  he  replied. 

We  had  no  more  than  entered  the  door  of 
the  drawing-room  above  when  I  turned  and 
thrust  the  copies  of  the  two  prescriptions  in 
his  face.  I  said  nothing,  but  stood  watching 
his  expression.  He  turned  as  white  as  al- 
abaster, his  hands  trembling  as  he  held  the 
paper.  He  read  them  hastily,  then  looked  up 
at  me,  saying: 

"Where  did  you  get  these?" 

The  color  was  gradually  returning  to  his 
cheeks,  yet  I  could  see  he  was  still  greatly 
moved.  His  hands  were  still  shaking,  and  it 
was  evident  that  he  was  holding  his  emotions 
in  check  by  a  powerful  effort  of  the  will. 

"You  know  where  I  got  them.  The  ques- 
tion is  superfluous." 

His  anger  was  rising  little  by  little ;  his  eyes 
snapped  and  his  hands  were  clenched  as  he 
turned  from  me  and  gazed  reflectively  out  the 
window.  But  he  made  no  response,  and  I 
walked  impatiently  up  and  down  the  room, 
afraid  that  I  might  say  too  much  in  my  grow- 
ing agitation. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       159 

Finally  he  turned  toward  me.  It  was  too 
late;  my  anger  had  overcome  me,  and  I  stood 
facing  him  haughtily.  "Where  is  Janet  Neg- 
ley  ?  You  know  and  you  have  got  to  tell  me." 

"Clarke!  Clarke!"  he  exclaimed.  "Come 
to  your  senses,  man.  What  do  you  mean?" 
He  had  straightened  himself,  and  was  looking 
at  me  unflinchingly. 

I  gazed  at  him  searchingly,  then  dropped 
my  eyes.  I  had  accused  my  friend  of  dis- 
honor; the  thought  was  appalling,  yet  I  never 
wavered  in  my  intentions.  I  must  get  a  con- 
fession of  some  sort,  regardless  of  the  conse- 
quences. The  girl  was  too  dear  to  me,  my 
altruistic  friendship  for  him  had  ceased  to 
live;  and  in  its  place  was  a  feeling  of  enmity. 
He  must  have  divined  my  feelings.  Yet  in 
spite  of  my  conviction  of  his  guilt  I  could  not 
accuse  him  outright  again;  the  words  would 
not  come  to  my  tongue.  Nor  could  I  explain 
in  detail  my  doubts  of  his  integrity. 

"Where  is  Janet  Negley?"  I  asked  again 
dramatically,  my  voice  tense  and  husky.  "Tell 
me  that  much  and  I  will  leave  at  once." 

He  came  and  placed  his  hand  on  my  shoul- 
der, but  I  thrust  him  from  me  angrily,  saying: 
"Do  not  touch  me.  Answer  my  question  and 
I  will  go." 


160       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

Looking  into  my  eyes  with  as  clear  and  hon- 
est a  gaze  as  I  have  ever  seen  in  any  man,  he 
answered  slowly: 

"Powell,  in  God's  name,  I  do  not  know!" 

I  whirled  around  as  if  I  had  been  shot,  stag- 
gered to  the  window  where  Walt  had  laid  the 
prescriptions,  thrust  them  into  my  pocket,  and 
rushed  headlong  from  the  room.  I  thought  I 
heard  Walt  call  me  as  I  left,  but  the  sound 
was  indistinct,  for  a  buzzing  was  in  my  ears 
and  a  mad  surging  in  my  head. 

When  I  reached  the  street  I  felt  so  ex- 
hausted that  I  knew  I  would  have  to  have 
some  sleep  and  rest  before  I  could  become 
equal  to  the  task  of  continuing  the  search  for 
Janet  Negley.  Boarding  a  car,  a  half-hour 
later  I  reached  my  rooms  and  threw  myself 
upon  the  bed  where  I  soon  fell  asleep. 

At  four  I  was  awakened  by  the  creaking  of 
my  unlocked  door.  A  boy  had  placed  my 
mail  upon  the  table,  and  I  saw  him  just  as  he 
was  leaving. 

"Who  is  it?"  I  called,  sitting  up  quickly 
and  passing  my  hand  over  my  eyes  to  shield 
them  from  the  bright  light  which  was  shining 
in  the  front  window. 

"I  guess  I  scared  you,"  laughed  the  boy. 
"It's  only  your  mail,  sir." 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       161 

I  glanced  through  it  quickly, — bills,  a  cir- 
cular, some  returned  short-story  manuscripts; 
then  came  an  envelope  addressed  in  a  hand- 
writing that  made  my  heart  beat  furiously. 
It  was  identical  with  the  handwriting  I  had 
seen  upon  the  letter  in  the  telephone  booth. 
Tearing  it  open,  I  read: 

Dear  Mr.  Powell: 

I  have  bribed  the  woman  in  whose  care  I  am  placed 
to  mail  this  note  to  you.  I  am  held  a  prisoner  here; 
come  for  me  at  once.  The  address  is  1486  Twelfth 
Street. 

As  ever, 

JANET. 

The  address  on  the  envelope  was  simply 
Washington  Square.  Janet  did  not  know 
the  number  of  my  house,  and  it  was  a  miracle 
that  the  note  had  reached  me  without  some 
delay.  Still,  my  name  must  have  become 
quite  well  known  to  the  postman,  who  had  car- 
ried back  and  forth  so  many  manuscripts  for 
me.  I  now  felt  thankful  for  that. 

Within  fifteen  minutes  I  was  speeding  along 
toward  Twelfth  Street.  The  woman  had  lied 
to  me  about  the  party's  not  coming  back  there. 
Perhaps  Janet  had  been  there  at  the  very  time 
of  my  visit,  hidden  away  in  some  secret  place. 
It  seemed  that  every  one  had  lied  to  me,  and 


162       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

Bennett's  words  came  to  me  again, — "Powell, 
in  God's  name,  I  do  not  know!" 

Something  had  snapped  within  me  at  that 
moment;  and  now  I  knew  what  it  was, — the 
loyal  feeling  of  friendship  that  had  endured 
so  long. 

All  this,  however,  was  of  the  past.  I  would 
rescue  Janet;  I  would  see  her;  I  would  be 
with  her  again,  and  she  would  be  safe  with 
me.  All  else  was  as  nothing.  People  might 
lie,  steal,  or  murder;  but  what  cared  I?  My 
heart's  desire  was  at  hand. 

Selfishness  was  at  last  growing  within  me. 
I  could  mark  its  increase  day  by  day.  My 
nineteen  hours  of  suspense  seemed  like  a 
dream  in  which  I  had  walked  hazily  in  a  maze 
of  mystic  illusions, — some  fantastic,  others  ab- 
horrent. 

A  feeling  of  happiness  came  to  me  as  I 
entered  the  house  on  Twelfth  Street.  A  mo- 
ment more  and  I  would  see  her,  and  my  arms 
ached  to  clasp  her  tightly  to  my  heart.  I 
knocked  at  the  door,  but  I  was  too  impatient 
to  wait  for  a  response;  so  I  turned  the  knob 
and  entered. 

The  German  woman  came  toward  me  from 
the  kitchen.  "I  have  come  for  the  young 
lady,"  I  said. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       163 

The  woman  turned  to  a  cabinet,  lifted  a 
china  saucer,  and  brought  forth  a  letter  which 
she  handed  to  me.  It  was  from  Janet,  saying 
that  she  was  being  liberated  by  her  abductors, 
and  that  I  might  find  her  at  Shetland.  I 
thanked  the  woman  and  thrust  a  bill  into  her 
hand  as  I  left. 

I  called  up  Vi  to  let  her  know,  but  she  told 
me  that  Janet  had  come  directly  there  from 
Twelfth  Street,  and  that  she  had  let  her  have 
sufficient  money  to  reach  Shetland. 

Arriving  at  the  Talmar  house  my  ring  was 
answered  by  Phyllis.  I  immediately  started 
in  to  question  her  about  her  mistress, — was  she 
ill,  what  time  had  she  come  home?  Phyllis 
had  received  the  letter  I  had  mailed  at  the 
Central  Terminal  Station  by  the  first  morn- 
ing's mail,  and  had  come  at  once  to  the  Tal- 
mar residence  to  put  things  in  order  for  her 
mistress.  She  knew  nothing  whatever  of  the 
abduction. 

"I'll  call  Miss  Janet,"  she  said,  as  I  entered 
the  parlor. 

When  Janet  came  in  her  pallor  was  deathly. 
The  grayish  hue  of  her  skin  and  the  sickly 
look  of  her  eyes  showed  plainly  the  effects  of 
the  morphine.  I  clasped  her  two  small  moist 
hands  in  mine,  drawing  her  to  me.  She 


164       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

yielded  languidly,  and  I  kissed  her  reverently 
on  the  forehead,  gazing  deep  into  her  sweet 
eyes.  We  had  not  spoken,  but  I  felt  as  if  I 
were  looking  into  her  very  soul,  and  what  I 
saw  there  made  my  heart  glad. 

"Janet!  Janet!"  I  cried,  lifting  her  face 
so  that  I  could  see  her  eyes  clearly.  "Oh,  how 
you  have  suffered!  Are  you  able  to  tell  me 
all  about  it,  or  would  you  rather  wait  until 
you  are  stronger?  Do  not  speak  of  it  if  it 
distresses  you.  I  can  wait  for  the  details, 
now  that  you  are  safe." 

"I  really  have  nothing  to  tell,"  she  replied 
in  a  weak  tone  as  she  released  herself  from  my 
embrace  and  walked  slowly  over  to  the  lounge, 
"except  that  I  was  deathly  sick  the  morning 
after  I  was  taken  away.  I  realized  then  that 
I  had  been  drugged." 

"Could  you  describe  the  man  or  men  who 
first  attacked  you?" 

"No,  I  did  not  see  them.  I  have  never 
seen  them — him,  rather — for  I  believe  there 
was  only  one.  I  was  walking  to  the  corner  to 
mail  a  letter  when  suddenly  I  was  seized  and 
a  bandage  placed  over  my  eyes  and  nose.  I 
must  have  fainted  with  fright,  for  I  can  re- 
member no  more  until  about  one  o'clock  when 
I  came  to  consciousness  in  the  back  room  of 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL        165 

that  house  on  Twelfth  Street.  I  was  very  ill, 
and  the  German  woman  who  cared  for  me 
was  kind  and  motherly.  She  heard  me  crying 
with  pain,  and  administered  something  that 
relieved  me  somewhat.  I  tried  to  get  her  to 
release  me  at  once,  but  she  seemed  afraid  of 
some  one.  She  treated  me  kindly  and  later 
agreed  to  mail  a  letter  if  I  would  write  it. 
This  I  did,  and  in  an  hour  I  was  free.  A 
man  came  to  the  house,  talked  with  the  woman, 
and  just  after  he  left  she  said  I  might  go. 
I  had  given  all  my  money  to  the  woman  for 
mailing  the  letter,  so  I  went  first  to  Vi's. 
She  insisted  on  my  staying  there,  but  I  wanted 
to  come  home.  To  my  surprise,  Phyllis  was 
here,  and  everything  ready  for  my  return. 
And  I  was  thinking  all  the  time  that  I  had 
never  mailed  the  letter  I  had  written  to  her." 
"I  posted  it  for  you,  dear,  that  night." 
"You  posted  it  for  me?"  she  exclaimed. 
"How  did  you  get  it?" 

I  told  her  the  story,  just  as  I  had  related 
it  to  Vi,  leaving  out  my  suspicions  of  Ben- 
nett's connection  with  the  affair.  I  told  her 
of  my  midnight  search  for  her  in  Shetland, 
of  the  mysterious  man  who  had  been  in  the 
house,  and  of  all  the  happenings  of  the  past 
two  days. 


166       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"Yes,"  she  answered;  "Phyllis  has  told  me 
that  some  one  had  been  in  the  house,  for  every- 
thing was  upset  from  top  to  bottom." 

"That  same  night  the  Bennett  home  was 
robbed,"  I  continued. 

Janet  sat  gazing  across  the  room  into  va- 
cancy. I  thought  she  had  not  heard  what  I 
had  said,  so  I  repeated  the  statement.  Still 
she  did  not  move. 

I  went  over  to  the  lounge  and  sat  beside 
her.  "Janet,"  I  said  softly. 

"Yes,    Mr.    Powell,"    she   replied   quietly. 

"Don't  be  so  distant, — so  formal,  Janet. 
Don't  call  me  Mr.  Powell,  please."  And  I 
took  one  of  her  hands  in  order  to  enforce  my 
pleading. 

"Just  as  you  say,  but  it  is  difficult  to  say 
anything  else.  Still  if  it  will  please  you,  I 
will  try." 

"Wouldn't  it  please  you,  Janet?" 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  say,  Mr. — " 

"Don't  you  dare,"  I  interrupted.  "Say 
Clarke." 

"Well,  then,  Clarke;  now  you  are  satisfied, 
Mr.— Vanity?" 

"You  don't  mean  that,  Janet?" 

"Well,  you  want  a  compliment,  do  you 
not?" 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       167 

"From  you,  yes.  Now  tell  me  what  you 
were  thinking  about  a  few  minutes  ago/' 

"You  are  impudent,  Clarke." 

"Not  at  all;  just  inquisitive.  Apparently 
you  were  not  even  listening  to  what  I  said." 

"Appearances  sometimes  deceive,"  she  re- 
plied. 

"You  did  hear  me,  then?" 

"Yes,  decidedly.  You  said  the  Bennett 
home  had  been  robbed." 

"You  have  a  theory  in  regard  to  it,  or  were 
you  thinking  of  something  else,  Janet?" 

"I  have  a  theory — yes;  but  I  do  not  want 
to  tell  it." 

"Why  not?" 

"For  personal  reasons." 

"Of  any  consequence?" 

"They  might  be  to  you.  One  can  never 
tell." 

"Is  it  a  secret?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  this  a  game  of  questions  and  answers?" 
I  asked. 

"It  seems  so.  But  you  are  doing  all  the 
questioning,  Clarke." 

"Yes,  and  I  am  not  through  yet.  When 
are  you  going  to  marry  me?  Answer  that 
question,  and  I  will  be  satisfied." 


168       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"I  can't  tell.  There  are  difficulties  that 
make  it  impossible  for  me  to  say." 

"You  love  me,  Janet?" 

"Now  you  are  getting  too  personal.  I 
shan't  answer  another  question." 

"But  I  am  serious,  Janet.  If  you  don't 
give  me  some  hope  I  shall  go  mad." 

Her  eyes  softened  as  she  looked  at  me,  and 
her  mood  changed  at  once.  "My  poor 
Clarke,"  she  said  seriously.  "But  love — I 
believe  it  to  be  a  flower  of  slow  growth,  and 
I  have  known  you  such  a  little  while." 

"It  is  no  such  thing.  I  used  to  think  that, 
too;  but  I  know  better." 

"Oh,  I  know  it  is  so  with  me.  You  have 
your  theory  and  I  have  mine,  so  why  talk  of 
love  at  all?" 

"Because  I  can't  think  of  anything  else.  I 
have  thought  of  nothing  but  you  since  the  first 
time  I  saw  you.  I  was  crazy  when  I  found 
you  again.  Oh,  Janet,  to  think  of  your  stay- 
ing in  that  horrible  dirty  place  on  Twelfth 
Street!" 

"Yes,  but  it  wasn't  as  dirty  as  you  imagine. 
I  was  treated  very  well;  my  food  was  whole- 
some and  clean;  and,  all  in  all,  I  was  not 
as  badly  situated  as  you  think.  My  being 
drugged  was  the  one  dark  side  to  my  adven- 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       169 

ture.  The  poor  German  woman  was  really 
a  lovely  character.  She  was  a  widow  who 
took  in  men  boarders  for  a  living, — a  good, 
wholesome  creature,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
her  kind  treatment  of  me.  But  Clarke,  dear, 
you  have  been  here  long  enough  and — well, 
you  must  go." 

"What  was  that  word  you  said  after  my 
name,  just  then?"  I  asked,  placing  my  arm 
around  her  waist.  "Repeat  it,  just  as  you 
said  it  before." 

"I  can't  remember,"  she  answered  evasively. 

"You  are  a  tease,  Janet,  and  I  am  afraid 
my  heart  will  be  dreadfully  hurt  sometime. 
Oh,  but  it  is  happiness  to  know  you  are  safe 
at  last,"  I  said,  as  I  rose.  "'But  I  want  my 
answer;  when  will  you  marry  me?" 

"You  shall  have  it  now,  Clarke.  I  do  not 
know." 

"But  why,  Janet?  What  is  to  prevent  us 
from  marrying  at  once?" 

The  color  mounted  to  her  cheeks.  "I  have 
reasons,  Clarke.  Is  not  that  sufficient? 
There  are  reasons, — reasons  connected  with 
the  death  of  my  father, — that  make  it  abso- 
lutely impossible  for  me  to  give  you  your 
answer." 

"At  least  I  can  hope,  Janet?" 


170       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"If  you  wish;  but  I  cannot  say  how  long  it 
may  be  before  I  can  tell  you.  Clarke,  it  may 
never  be." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

ADDED  COMPLICATIONS 

I  HAD  found  Janet  Negley,  but  I  seemed 
no  nearer  winning  her  than  I  had  been  be- 
fore. That  the  reason  for  this  was  something 
connected  with  the  death  of  her  father  was 
now  plain  to  me,  and  this  realization  threw 
me  into  a  state  of  morbid  reflection.  Pulling 
from  my  pocket  the  Persian  tassel,  I  gazed 
at  it  reflectively.  A  thing  so  small  and  in- 
significant to  cause  so  much  trouble,  I  mused, 
— yet  I  loved  it  because  it  was  hers. 

I  left  the  Talmar  home  with  a  feeling  of  de- 
pression weighing  on  my  heart, — a  feeling 
different  from  any  I  had  ever  experienced  be- 
fore or  since  my  meeting  with  Janet  Negley. 
While  hunting  for  her  I  had  been  worried, — 
agonizingly  worried, — about  her  safety;  now, 
— possibly  the  reaction  had  caused  the  change, 
— I  felt  hopeless  and  utterly  despondent. 

Janet  was  connected  in  some  way  with  the 
death  of  her  father.  She  had  practically  ad- 
mitted it  by  refusing  to  give  me  a  definite  an- 

171 


1T2       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

swer.  I  knew  that  she  cared  for  me;  there- 
fore there  must  be  some  vital  cause  for  her 
strange  conduct. 

As  the  days  passed  and  I  became  more  and 
more  in  love  with  Janet  I  became  accustomed 
to  the  thought  of  Bennett's  degeneracy;  and 
it  worried  me  less  and  less.  His  strange  be- 
havior, I  decided,  was  the  natural  result  of 
his  having  become  the  slave  of  morphine.  In 
no  other  way  could  I  account  for  his  fallen 
manhood.  But  with  Janet  safe  at  home  out 
of  his  power,  I  could  now  drop  the  thought  of 
him  entirely  from  my  mind.  Bennett  and  I 
had  quarreled ;  I  believed  I  would  never  speak 
to  my  friend  again.  Our  ways  of  life  had 
parted  forever. 

I  was  indulging  in  these  reflections  in  the 
solitude  of  my  room  two  days  after  Janet's 
strange  liberation.  In  the  meantime  I  had 
called  at  Shetland  frequently,  using  all  my 
powers  of  persuasion  in  a  futile  effort  to  per- 
suade her  to  marry  me  at  once.  She  stub- 
bornly refused,  goading  me  to  the  thought 
that  she  never  intended  to  marry  me  at  all. 

I  had  thought  over  the  whole  situation  until 
I  felt  that  if  I  did  not  concentrate  my  mind 
upon  something  else,  I  should  go  mad. 
Reaching  for  a  book  upon  the  table,  I  found 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       173 

it  to  be  one  I  had  recently  taken  from  the 
library  and  forgotten  in  my  worry  over  Janet's 
abduction.  It  was  "The  Rosy  Dawn,"  by 
Douglas  White. 

Two  hours  later  I  leaned  my  head  against 
the  back  of  the  chair,  with  closed  eyes,  the  book 
on  my  knees.  The  vividness  and  the  beauty 
of  the  romance  had  fairly  intoxicated  me.  It 
was  a  fantastic  tale,  intensely  romantic,  and 
as  I  read  I  was  carried  as  it  were  into  a  land 
of  dreams,  wandering  with  the  two  lovers 
through  their  world  of  light  and  laughter. 

I  had  been  lulled  by  the  exquisite  cadence 
of  musical  words  and  I  too  had  entered  the  un- 
real world  where  the  two  lovers  dwelt;  I  too 
was  under  the  spell  of  its  soft  atmosphere;  I 
too  lived  where  only  love  is  life.  And  this 
had  been  done  by  the  author's  charm  of  ex- 
pression, by  the  delicacy  of  his  perceptions. 
The  man's  very  soul  seemed  to  be  printed 
upon  the  pages.  The  writer  of  this  book  was 
a  literary  genius.  I  would  never  rest  until  I 
could  know  him. 

A  knock  at  the  door  aroused  me  and  I  has- 
tened to  open  it.  The  editor  of  Hammond's 
Magazine  entered. 

"Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Moultrie,"  I  said. 
"Won't  you  have  a  seat?" 


174       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

Ignoring  my  invitation,  he  stood  facing  me 
silently;  there  was  suppressed  anger  in  his 
voice  when  he  did  speak. 

"Mr.  Powell,"  he  said,  "I  think  you  owe  me 
an  explanation." 

"An  explanation?" 

"Yes.  How  can  you  explain  this?"  And 
he  thrust  a  magazine  into  my  hands. 

I  glanced  at  it  and  recognized  the  Favorite 
Magazine. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  I  stammered. 

"Turn  to  page  fourteen  and  you  will  see. 
Possibly  your  memory  is  poor." 

There  was  a  story  on  the  page.  "The  Ab- 
duction" was  the  title,  and  underneath  I  saw 
my  name. 

"I  never  wrote  that,"  I  protested  angrily. 

"You  did  not?" 

"No;  I  never  saw  the  story  before." 

"You  may  not  have  seen  it  before,  but  you 
will  be  a  long  time  forgetting  it,  Mr.  Powell. 
That  story  is  yours,  and  if  you  think  you  can 
deceive  me  in  this  manner  you  are  greatly  mis- 
taken. The  introductory  chapter  and  main 
plot  are  identical  with  the  first  installment  of 
the  serial  you  sold  us.  With  the  exception 
of  the  viewpoint  and  shifting  of  characters, 
the  theme  is  the  same.  The  doctor's  story  is 


yours,  word  for  word,  and  you  need  not  tell 
me  you  didn't  write  it.  True,  the  title  is  dif- 
ferent, and  the  denouement;  still  the  main 
story  is  a  steal,  and  we  will  not  publish  any- 
thing but  original  material.  I  have  a  case 
against  you,  and  I  am  going  to  see  it  through. 
You  are  an  unreliable  and  unprincipled  fel- 
low." 

I  was  so  dumbfounded  that  I  could  not 
speak;  but  if  I  had  spoken  he  probably  would 
not  have  heard  me,  his  wrath  had  so  mastered 
him. 

"What  kind  of  a  magazine  do  you  think 
we  publish?"  he  raged.  "You  received  a  good 
price  for  that  story,  and  it  is  now  in  the  hands 
of  the  printer.  This  affair  will  delay  next 
month's  issue.  We  must  necessarily  drop 
your  story.  A  great  mess  you  have  made  of 
things,  and  I  had  thought  you  were  a  respon- 
sible author!" 

"I  tell  you,  Mr.  Moultrie,  I  know  absolutely 
nothing  about  this  story  in  the  Favorite  Mag- 
azine." 

He  laughed  sarcastically.  "You  did  not 
write  it?  When  your  name  is  attached  to  it? 
Man,  how  do  you  dare  to  make  such  an  as- 
sertion?" 

"I    do    dare,    for    I    did    not    write    the 


176       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

story,"  I  repeated.  "I  know  nothing  about 
it.  Bennett  is  evidently  using  my  name,  for 
I  had  refused  to  give  him  a  story  for  this 
month's  issue.  In  desperation  he  has  done 
this." 

"That  may  sound  well,  but  your  logic  is 
poor.  How  is  it  that  your  stories  are  so  sim- 
ilar, especially  the  account  of  the  doctor? 
Your  fabrication  is  not  very  clever,  Mr. 
Powell."  Again  he  gave  a  satirical  laugh  as 
I  stood  dazed  before  him. 

"Mr.  Moultrie,  the  situation  is  a  grave  one 
for  me,"  I  said  finally.  "I  would  dislike  very 
much  to  be  brought  into  a  suit  with  you  or 
any  other  editor,  and  I  can  only  reiterate  my 
innocence  of  any  wrong-doing.  I  fear  you 
would  not  understand  me  if  I  told  you  what 
little  I  do  know  of  why  the  stories  are  so  sim- 
ilar. I  would  like  to  make  myself  right  with 
you,  but  unless  you  believe  what  I  have  told 
you  I  am  defenseless'." 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room  as  if  re- 
flecting, then  turned  to  me  again.  "I  will 
compromise  with  you,  on  one  condition." 

"Say  it,"  I  replied,  my  heart  fairly  stopping 
with  alternate  hope  and  doubt. 

"Get  me  a  story  at  once  written  by  Doug- 
las White,  and  I  will  drop  the  matter  entirely." 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       177 

"I  cannot  do  that,"  I  said  almost  in  a  whis- 
per, my  hopes  entirely  shattered. 

"Yes,  you  can,  Mr.  Powell." 

"How?     Tell  me!" 

"Walter  Bennett  is  your  friend  and  he  can 
give  you  a  story  by  Douglas  White;  or  at 
least  he  knows  his  address." 

"What  makes  you  think  that?" 

"Why,  use  your  brains.  Bennett  got  this 
story  from  him  gratis,"  he  said,  picking  up  the 
copy  of  the  Favorite  Magazine,  which  I  had 
thrown  upon  the  table.  "Do  you  suppose  he 
is  giving  his  stories  away  to  an  editor  he  doesn't 
even  know,  especially  when  his  magazine  is  of 
doubtful  merit  ?  No !  That  is  highly  improb- 
able. Bennett  can  get  a  story,  and  you  are 
the  only  one  whom  Bennett  would  favor  in  this 
way.  He  owes  it  to  you  as  compensation, — 
if  what  you  say  about  his  using  your  name 
is  true.  On  that  point  I  am  skeptical;  but 
I  don't  care  how  you  get  the  story,  just  so 
you  get  it — and  at  once.  Otherwise  I  shall 
bring  suit  against  you.  It  is  a  straightfor- 
ward proposition.  I  have  paid  you  for  a  story 
that  we  cannot  use.  It  was  presented  and  ac- 
cepted under  false  pretenses;  ostensibly  it 
was  original  fiction,  never  published  before. 
I  think  I  am  fair  in  showing  you  a  way 


178       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

to  make  amends  for  your  wrong-doing. 
Whether  you  are  guilty  or  not  will  have  to  be 
determined  by  the  law,  unless  we  settle  the 
matter  quietly  in  the  manner  I  have  named." 

"This  story  is  not  like  mine,"  I  remarked, 
looking  up  from  the  magazine,  which  I  had 
been  hastily  scanning.  "It  is  different  in 
many  ways, — in  style,  technique,  viewpoint, 
— why,  even  the  characters  are  absolutely  dis- 
tinct from  mine." 

I  was  beginning  to  get  angry — but  only 
angry  with  Bennett  for  having  got  me  into 
such  a  predicament. 

"The  plot  is  the  same,"  he  declared  stub- 
bornly. "That  is  the  important  part.  What 
will  you  do  about  my  suggestion  of  a  com- 
promise?" 

"I  will  try  to  get  a  story  from  Douglas 
White  if  Bennett  will  tell  me  of  his  where- 
abouts. How  much  time  will  you  give  me?" 

"Forty-eight  hours.  I  must  have  the 
manuscript  in  the  printer's  hands  by  this  time 
day  after  to-morrow." 

"And  if  not—  "  I  asked  breathlessly. 

"I  shall  bring  suit  against  you,  Mr.  Powell. 
I  am  sorry,  but  unless  we  editors  protect  our- 
selves in  such  cases  we  would  be  constantly 
in  trouble.  You  understand  that  as  well  as 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       179 

I  do.  My  point  of  view  is  identical  with  that 
of  every  other  publisher."  His  anger  had 
subsided,  and  he  appeared  calm  and  more 
friendly.  His  hopes  of  getting  a  story  by 
Douglas  White  had  so  changed  his  demeanor 
that  he  hardly  acted  like  the  man  that  had 
entered  the  room  so  short  a  time  before. 

I  even  dared  to  put  out  my  hand  as  he  left. 
"I'll  do  my  best  to  carry  out  your  desires," 
I  said  as  we  shook  hands  good-naturedly. 

I  was  too  impatient  to  read  "The  Abduc- 
tion" after  Moultrie  left,  so  I  hurried  out  to 
Bennett's  office.  To  my  disappointment  he 
was  not  in,  and  his  assistant  did  not  know 
when  he  would  return.  I  waited  an  hour  for 
him,  my  mind  tortured  with  doubt.  This  final 
blow  dealt  by  Bennett  had  staggered  me,  for 
it  was  a  killing  blow  to  my  reputation  as  an 
author.  He  could  not  have  done  me  a  greater 
injury  than  to  have  used  my  name  in  prefer- 
ence to  his  own,  which  was  unknown. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  the  whole  world  had 
changed.  Yet  here  I  was  in  Bennett's  office, 
— a  place  I  had  thought  never  to  enter  again. 
Well,  he  had  to  account  to  me  for  this  last 
act  of  his,  and  I  meant  to  force  a  compromise, 
even  if  I  had  to  divulge  my  suspicions  of  his 
connection  with  the  Talmar  tragedy  and  the 


180       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

abduction  of  Janet  Negley.  Too  nervous  to  sit 
quietly  waiting  for  Bennett,  I  left  the  office, 
determined  to  find  him.  First  I  went  to  the 
Club,  but  he  was  not  there.  Then  I  tele- 
phoned to  the  Bennett  home,  but  could  get 
no  answer,  so  went  out  there.  The  maid  in- 
formed me  that  Mr.  Bennett  was  out  and  that 
Miss  Bennett  had  gone  to  Shetland  that  morn- 
ing to  sperd  the  day  with  Miss  Negley. 

I  then  went  to  an  hotel  frequented  by  Ben- 
nett, but  he  was  neither  in  the  lobby  nor  in  the 
cafe.  Leaving  the  hotel,  I  walked  over  to 
Broadway.  The  matinee  audiences  were  just 
leaving  the  theaters,  and  I  made  my  way  with 
difficulty  through  the  crowds.  I  must  have 
walked  about  ten  blocks  when  I  saw  a  man  who 
I  thought  looked  familiar.  Coming  alongside 
him,  I  recognized  him  to  be  the  large-boned 
fellow  I  had  seen  in  the  tavern  and  had 
later  followed  to  the  Twelfth  Street  house. 
I  walked  slowly  behind  him  for  a  block,  keep- 
ing him  in  view  till  I  could  formulate  some 
plan  to  draw  from  him  the  part  he  had  played 
in  the  abduction  of  Janet  Negley. 

Why  not  stop  him,  detain  him  in  some  way, 
and  call  the  police?  But  what  charge  could 
I  make  against  him?  I  had  no  proof  that  he 
was  connected  with  the  abduction  in  any  way. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       181 

The  clerk  at  the  Euclid  Pharmacy  had  seen 
only  one  man  and  that  was  Bennett !  Though 
I  was  certain  that  this  fellow  had  taken  a  part 
in  the  affair,  I  could  not  prove  it  to  the  police ; 
so,  dismissing  my  plan  of  detaining  the  fellow, 
I  still  kept  my  eyes  upon  him  and  never 
did  I  let  him  get  more  than  a  few  yards 
ahead  of  me.  I  kept  this  up  for  several 
blocks,  when  without  premeditation  I  walked 
up  to  him  and  touched  his  sleeve.  He  halted 
at  once  and  looked  searchingly  at  me  as  I 
asked : 

"Do  you  want  to  make  some  money?" 
"Naw;  what  yer  givin'  me?"  he  said  in  a 
coarse  twang,  rudely  brushing  my  hand  from 
his  arm,  and  dodging  into  the  crowds  ahead. 
Quickly  I  darted  after  him,  but  concealed  my- 
self from  him  by  walking  very  near  the  build- 
ings. He  glanced  back  now  and  then,  but  at 
last  seemed  satisfied  that  I  was  not  follow- 
ing him  and  slowed  down.  He  did  not  look 
around  again,  thinking  he  had  lost  me  in  the 
crowd. 

Seeing  him  stop  at  the  corner  of  the  Flat- 
iron  Building,  I  hurried  on  and  at  length 
again  confronted  him.  It  was  a  good  place 
to  accost  him,  for  too  many  persons  were  about 
for  him  to  dare  to  cause  a  scene.  I  lost  no 


182        THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

time  but  walking  straight  up  to  him  thrust  a 
copy  of  Bennett's  prescription  into  his  face, 
and  said  in  a  low  tone: 

"I  don't  mean  you  any  harm,  but  if  you 
move  I  will  call  the  police.  Answer  me. 
What  do  you  know  about  this?" 

The  fellow  stood  like  one  hypnotized,  look- 
ing down  at  the  paper  I  held  before  him. 
The  expression  of  his  face  never  changed,  and 
at  once  I  had  my  doubts  as  to  his  knowing 
anything  about  the  prescription. 

"What's  your  dope?  I  can't  read."  The 
fellow  seemed  sincere  in  his  answer,  and  some- 
how I  believed  him.  But  I  would  try  him 
further,  so,  pulling  from  my  pocket  the  Per- 
sian tassel,  I  held  it  before  his  eyes. 

"If  you  tell  me  the  truth  about  this,  I  prom- 
ise to  let  you  go."  I  talked  low  and  any  one 
passing  would  have  thought  we  were  carrying 
on  a  friendly  conversation. 

At  the  sight  of  the  tassel  he  gave  a  start 
and  a  crafty  look  came  to  his  eyes  and  he 
glanced  nervously  up  and  down  the  street. 
I  began  to  fear  he  contemplated  making  a 
dash  for  liberty,  but  as  he  made  no  movement 
as  if  to  go  I  waited  until  he  was  ready  to  an- 
swer. His  first  fleeting  expression  of  fear  had 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       183 

given  place  to  a  dry  smile  of  feigned  indif- 
ference. 

"Here,  here;  answer  me,"  I  urged. 

"What  do  yer  want  to  know?" 

"I  want  to  know  what  you  know  about  the 
tassel  and  the  death  of  Dr.  Talmar?  Answer 
me  that,  man,  and  I'll  let  you  go;  otherwise 
I'll  call  the  police." 

The  threat  worked  beautifully,  for  he  spoke 
now  in  a  low,  hoarse  whisper,  "If  it  hadn't 
been  for  this  yer  tassel,  Dr.  Talmar  would 
never  have  been  murdered." 

Just  as  the  words  were  spoken  a  man  ac- 
cidentally knocked  into  me  and  my  hat 
was  thrown  to  the  sidewalk.  I  reached  down 
quickly  and  picked  it  up,  then  turned  again 
to  the  fellow  at  my  side.  He  was  not  there. 
He  had  vanished. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

DOUBTS  AND  WORRIES 

WHAT  impulse  it  was  that  made  me 
turn  and  run  up  the  street  I  cannot 
say.  I  suddenly  found  myself  at  the  corner, 
stupidly  peering  from  right  to  left,  but  I  re- 
alized that  in  the  excitement  of  flight  I  had 
lost  the  tassel;  so  I  sped  down  the  avenue, 
searching  the  pavement  and  jostling  the 
crowd  as  I  passed  along.  I  found  it  lying 
just  where  I  had  dropped  it  in  front  of  the 
Flatiron  Building. 

It  seemed  as  if  I  then  drew  my  first  breath 
since  having  become  aware  of  the  tassel's  loss. 
Putting  it  back  in  my  pocket,  I  half  staggered 
along  the  street  in  a  state  of  relief.  The  in- 
cident had  obscured  all  else  for  the  time  being, 
and  only  now  was  the  remembrance  of  the 
man's  words  brought  again  to  my  mind: 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  this  yer  tassel,  Dr. 
Talmar  would  never  have  been  murdered." 

The  sentence  echoed  and  reechoed  through 
my  mind  as  I  blindly  paced  the  crowded  streets. 

184 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       185 

The  occurrence  had  been  so  puzzling.  It  had 
all  happened  in  a  flash, — the  fellow's  fear,  his 
startling  words, — then  his  flight. 

"Pshaw!  The  scoundrel  must  have  been 
joking  with  me.  A  man  murdered  for  a  tas- 
sel!" It  was  utterly  absurd.  The  creature 
had  simply  lied  in  order  to  startle  me  and  then 
get  away.  It  was  a  quickly  thought-out  de- 
vice to  fool  me,  and  it  had  worked  beautifully. 

Still,  try  as  I  might,  I  could  not  put  away 
my  uneasiness.  His  words  were  like  a  germ 
of  the  disease  of  doubt,  with  which  simple  con- 
tact was  sufficient  to  infect  and  destroy  the 
peace  of  mind  of  mortals,  and  the  course  of 
the  malady  could  only  be  stopped  by  serious 
reflection.  If  what  he  had  said  were  true,  if 
the  tassel  were  the  motive  for  the  murder,  then 
Janet  Negley  was  connected  with  the  crime, 
for  the  tassel  belonged  to  her. 

Thought  led  to  doubt,  and  again  I  found 
myself  reviewing  Janet's  story  of  the  abduc- 
tion. She  had  given  me  no  reason  for  the 
strange  occurrence;  in  fact,  she  had  rather 
evaded  talking  of  it  whenever  I  had  brought 
up  the  subject  for  discussion.  She  seemed  to 
be  entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  any  reason  for 
the  abduction.  Was  she  sincere?  Did  she 
know  why  she  had  been  abducted,  or  why  her 


186       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

father  had  been  murdered?  She  had  claimed, 
however,  to  have  a  theory  in  regard  to  the  at- 
tempted robberies  at  Shetland  and  the  Ben- 
nett home,  but  would  give  me  no  inkling  as  to 
what  it  was. 

Yet  I  loved  her  none  the  less  for  all 
my  doubts.  Intuitively  I  felt  that  whatever 
might  be  her  motive  for  concealing  her  knowl- 
edge of  the  matter  it  was  justifiable  and  that 
her  innocence  must  not  be  questioned,  hard  as 
it  was  to  banish  doubt  in  the  face  of  so  many 
complications.  I  writhed  in  an  agony  of  un- 
certainty, and  the  present  moment  seemed 
darker  than  any  before.  Bennett's  recent  act 
that  involved  me  in  difficulties  with  Ham- 
mond's Magazine  was  the  heaviest  of  all  my 
troubles  to  bear.  My  love  for  Janet  was 
superior  to  my  doubts  and  fears,  but  my 
dead  friendship  for  Bennett  was  a  different 
matter.  Satisfied  of  his  complete  unworthi- 
ness,  I  again  resolved  to  drop  him  from  my 
life  forever. 

Lost  in  thought  I  forgot  all  about  time  until 
looking  at  my  watch  I  was  startled  to  find 
that  it  was  half  after  five.  I  was  invited  to 
Shetland  for  dinner;  I  knew  I  would  be  late, 
so  I  telephoned  to  Janet  before  I  caught  the 
next  train. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       187 

Vi  was  with  Janet  on  the  porch  when  I 
reached  the  Talmar  home  an  hour  later.  "I'm 
sorry  I'm  late,"  said  I,  apologetically.  "It  is 
unpardonable,  I  know;  but  I  was  detained." 

"Never  mind;  you  need  not  apologize, 
Clarke,"  laughed  Vi.  "You  are  here  now, 
and  that  is  all  we  care  about." 

Janet  came  forward  and  extended  her  hand. 
"Don't  worry,"  she  said.  "You  are  not  very 
late.  Phyllis  has  not  announced  dinner  yet. 
But  suppose  we  go  indoors  now;  the  evening 
air  is  damp."  And  she  turned  toward  the  door. 

We  followed  her  into  the  house,  where,  drop- 
ping leisurely  down  at  the  piano,  she  let  her  fin- 
gers fall  on  the  keys,  making  a  succession  of  ex- 
quisite chords ;  then  softly  my  favorite  melody, 
Mendelssohn's  "Spring  Song,"  filled  the 
room.  I  stood  beside  the  piano,  looking 
down  at  her  hands  as  they  touched  the  keys 
caressingly;  and  the  dreamy  strains  stirred 
the  soul  of  the  lover  that  was  slumbering 
within  me.  She  glanced  up  at  me  with  a 
smile,  but  the  act  was  unconscious  and  her  air 
seemed  one  of  abstraction.  Vi  had  left  the 
room  and  Janet  and  I  were  alone.  I  stood 
raptly  gazing  at  her  slender  form,  at  the 
exquisite  contour  of  her  white  throat;  at  her 
arms,  so  soft  and  so  beautifully  modeled,  and 


188       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

at  the  transparent  whiteness  of  the  skin 
through  which  the  delicate  blue  veins  showed 
faintly.  Every  nerve  in  my  body  tingled  and 
cried  out  for  her.  Her  presence  intoxicated 
me,  and  I  could  feel  the  slow  surge  of  passion 
mounting  to  my  brain.  It  was  all  I  could  do 
to  keep  from  dropping  at  her  feet,  and  crying 
out  in  agony  of  longing  and  doubt: 

"Janet!  Janet!  Why  won't  you  marry 
me?  Is  it  the  Persian  tassel  that  is  keeping 
us  apart?" 

Instead  of  raving  like  a  madman,  however, 
I  clenched  my  hands  and  said  quite  conven- 
tionally : 

"You  play  beautifully,  Janet." 

Just  then  dinner  was  announced. 

I  was  so  worried  and  preoccupied  with  de- 
pressing thoughts  that  I  did  not  enjoy  the 
meal.  Janet  seemed  exceptionally  gay,  and 
both  girls  laughed  and  chatted  about  trivial 
subjects,  while  I  must  have  shown  the  un- 
rest that  beset  me,  for  Vi  turned  to  me,  say- 
ing: 

"What's  the  matter,  Clarke?  You  are 
about  as  bright  as  a  rainy  day." 

At  this  remark  I  tried  to  pull  myself  to- 
gether, and  I  laughingly  responded,  "One 
star  in  a  company  is  sufficient." 


"Oh,  you  horrid  man,"  replied  Vi.  "I'm 
sorry  that  I  spoke." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Janet.  "He  meant  that 
as  a  compliment.  Didn't  you,  Clarke?" 

"Ask  me  no  questions,  and  I  '11 — " 

"Never  mind;  please  don't  make  it  any 
worse.  I  am  sufficiently  rebuked  as  it  is,"  in- 
terrupted Vi,  quickly. 

After  dinner  Janet  played  and  sang  several 
songs  while  I  chatted  with  Vi. 

Suddenly  Vi  interrupted  her  in  the  midst 
of  a  song  by  exclaiming  dramatically : 

"Janet,  Clarke  is  in  trouble!" 

Janet  stopped  playing  abruptly,  turned 
toward  us,  and  asked  in  an  anxious  tone : 

"Are  you,  Clarke?" 

"Oh,  it  is  nothing  of  consequence,  Janet.  Vi 
is  an  alarmist,  besides  being  something  of  a 
clairvoyant.  I  cannot  recall  having  said  any- 
thing about  being  in  trouble." 

"But  you  are,"  persisted  Vi.  "Your  own 
answer  to  Janet  confirms  it.  There  is  some- 
thing wrong  and  you  know  it." 

I  could  see  I  had  been  caught  in  the  mesh. 
Vi's  keen  perception  was  too  much  for  me. 

"Tell  us  about  it,  Clarke,"  begged  the  girls 
in  unison. 

"Well,  the  truth  is  that  I  am  in  trouble  with 


190       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

the  editor  of  Hammond's  Magazine'3  I  said 
lightly,  after  a  moment's  hesitation.  "I  do 
not  think  it  will  amount  to  much,  still  it  has  so 
worried  me  that  Vi  has  divined  my  mental  con- 
dition. Bennett  has  put  my  name  to  a  story 
he  wrote  and  has  issued  his  magazine  this  week 
in  gala  form.  It  seems  that  the  plot  of  his 
story  is  similar  to  the  one  I  had  used  in  a  story 
previously  sold  to  Hammond's  Magazine. 
Moultrie,  the  editor  of  Hammond's,  has  threat- 
ened to  sue  me  in  consequence.  Now  do  you 
think  this  of  enough  importance  to  be  called 
trouble,  or  to  cause  so  much  discussion?"  I 
laughed  in  an  effort  to  dispel  their  fears. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  sorry,"  exclaimed  Janet,  show- 
ing great  anxiety.  "Isn't  there  something  you 
can  do  to  settle  matters  satisfactorily?  Why 
don't  you  refund  the  money  to  the  editor  and 
have  him  drop  the  suit?" 

I  again  laughed,  this  time  heartily.  "You 
don't  know  much  about  the  professional  eti- 
quette of  magazines,  Janet." 

"That  is  true.  Father  always  said  that  I 
had  about  as  much  business  ability  as  a  flying- 
machine." 

"Well,  Walt  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole 
trouble,"  ejaculated  Vi.  "He  should  not  have 
used  your  name," 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       191 

"He  didn't  mean  any  harm,  Vi;  it  is  partly 
my  fault.  I  should  have  consulted  him  re- 
garding my  plans  to  submit  the  story  to  an- 
other magazine.  He's  not  to  blame." 

"You  say  the  stories  are  similar — isn't  that 
a  strange  coincidence?"  asked  Janet  reflect- 
ively. 

"Yes;  in  one  way  it  is.  We  both  used  your 
father's  theory  as  the  theme  of  the  main  plot. 
It  was  the  germ  of  both  stories." 

"Nevertheless,  Walt  is  to  blame,"  persisted 
Vi,  "for  he  used  your  name  without  your 
knowledge  or  consent.  I  shall  give  him  a 
good  lecture." 

"No,  no,  Vi!  Please  don't  do  that.  I— I 
haven't  said  anything  to  him  as  yet,"  I  stam- 
mered awkwardly.  I  could  see  that  I  had 
got  myself  into  trouble  by  even  mentioning 
the  subject  to  the  girls. 

"Oh,  of  course,  I  shan't  tell  him  if  you  don't 
wish  me  to,  but  I  thought  that — " 

"No,"  I  interrupted  again,  "I  wish  you 
wouldn't  mention  it  to  him.  I'll  talk  it  over 
with  him  some  time  when  we  are  alone." 

"But,  Clarke,  isn't  there  something  you  can 
do?" 

"Yes,  there  is  a  possibility  of  extricating  my- 
self, but  it  is  small.  Moultrie  will  compromise 


192       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

with  me  on  condition  that  I  get  him  a  story  by 
Douglas  White.  Such  a  thing  is  laughable. 
He  might  just  as  well  have  asked  me  to  save 
the  Titanic,, — it  would  have  been  about  as 
easy." 

Vi  arose,  sauntered  leisurely  over  to  the 
piano,  and  started  to  play,  while  Janet  seated 
herself  beside  me.  "Well,  the  situation  does 
look  serious,  doesn't  it?"  she  said,  placing  the 
pillows  comfortably  at  her  back. 

"Yes,  it  does,  in  a  way.  You  see  if  I  am 
unable  to  secure  this  manuscript  from  Douglas 
White,  Moultrie  will  proceed  with  the  suit. 
My  reputation  as  an  author  will  be  ruined ;  the 
magazines  will  shun  me,  and  I'll — well,  I'll 
probably  have  to  dig  coal  for  a  living.  The 
prospect  is  not  alluring." 

"I  am  not  a  business  woman,  still  it  seems  to 
me  that  there  must  be  some  other  means  of 
compromise." 

"No,  Moultrie  is  bent  upon  getting  a  story 
by  the  new  author,  and  will  listen  to  no  other 
terms.  I'll  get  one  for  him,  if  I  have  to  raid 
every  editorial  sanctum  in  New  York  City. 
The  worst  of  the  whole  affair  is  that  Moultrie 
has  given  me  only  forty-eight  hours  in  which  to 
find  the  fellow  and  get  the  story.  Sometimes 
it  seems  to  me  that  the  thing  is  impossible." 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       193 

"Why  didn't  he  give  you  a  little  more  time?" 

"It  is  necessary  to  have  the  manuscript  in 
the  hands  of  the  printers  by  to-morrow  after- 
noon." 

Janet's  face  lighted  up  at  this.  "Well,  then, 
Clarke,  you  have  all  day  to-morrow,  and  you 
know  one  can  accomplish  a  wonderful  lot  in 
twelve  long  hours.  I  wouldn't  feel  so  hope- 
less." 

"Y'ou  are  decidedly  optimistic,  Janet;  you 
are  a  positive  inspiration.  I  am  very  deter- 
mined by  nature — you  will  realize  this  some 
day  if  not  now — and  I  mean  to  succeed  in 
this  matter.  Isn't  that  optimism,  too?"  I 
laughed  reassuringly,  though  I  was  in  no 
laughing  humor. 

Vi  was  still  playing  the  piano,  humming  the 
words  of  a  popular  air,  and  her  lips  bore  the 
faint  outline  of  a  smile. 

"Do  stop  that  ridiculous  piece,  Vi!"  ex- 
claimed Janet  as  if  exasperated. 

Just  then  the  bell  rang,  and  Janet  rose  to 
go  to  the  door.  A  man's  voice  was  heard  in 
the  vestibule,  then  the  door  closed,  and  a  few 
moments  later  Bennett  entered  the  room. 

He  looked  straight  at  me.  There  was  a  per- 
ceptible pause,  then  with  a  slight  smile  upon 
his  lips  he  turned  from  me  and  said: 


194       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"I  hope  that  I  am  not  intruding,  Janet." 

"You  know  you  do  not  mean  that,  Mr.  Ben- 
nett. It  would  be  impossible  for  you  to  in- 
trude here." 

"Walt  always  needs  reassurance;  he's  so 
timid,  you  know,"  laughed  Vi.  "Do  sit  down, 
Walt,  and  make  yourself  at  home.  I'm  not 
ready  to  leave  yet,  besides  I  want  you  to  hear 
Janet  sing.  She  has  such  a  wonderful  voice." 

"Oh,  with  that  inducement  I  shall  certainly 
stay;  but,  by  the  way,  Vi,  bear  in  mind  that 
our  train  is  due  to  leave  in  just  thirty-two  min- 
utes." 

"Never  mind  the  train,"  I  interrupted,  try- 
ing to  join  in  the  conversation  with  some  sem- 
blance of  ease,  although  it  was  hard  to  do  in 
the  face  of  all  that  had  recently  happened. 

"If  I  did  not  have  a  very  important  engage- 
ment at  the  office  to-night,  I  would  be  glad 
to  spend  the  whole  evening  listening  to  Miss 
Negley  sing."  He  looked  directly  at  me  as 
he  said  this,  with  penetrating  eyes  and  with  a 
half-satirical  smile  wreathing  his  lips. 

I  knew  that  he  meant  just  what  he  said, 
and  I  could  have  killed  him  in  my  senseless 
jealousy.  I  would  have  answered,  but  Janet 
was  at  the  piano  beginning  to  play,  so  we  sat 
in  perfect  silence,  listening  to  her  sweet  voice, 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       195 

—Bennett  with  his  head  bowed  in  dreamy  re- 
flection, and  I  enraptured,  gazing  wistfully 
into  space.  Vi  stood  beside  the  piano  turning 
the  music. 

After  several  songs  had  been  sung  Vi  left 
the  room  to  put  on  her  wraps. 

"May  I  see  you  later,  Bennett?"  I  asked, 
after  he  had  finished  complimenting  Janet's 
voice.  "Will  you  be  at  your  office  about 
eleven-thirty?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied;  "I'll  be  at  the  office  until 
midnight,  anyway." 

"I'll  leave  here,  then,  on  the  10:45  train, 
and  come  straight  up  to  the  office  at  once." 

We  went  with  Vi  and  Bennett  to  the  door, 
and  while  the  girls  chatted  a  moment  on  the 
porch  I  added  a  few  explanatory  words  to 
Bennett. 

"I  must  speak  to  you  on  very  urgent  mat- 
ters, Bennett.  If  I  should  accidentally  miss  the 
10:45  train,  I  wish  you  would  wait  for  me." 

"It  is  quite  unnecessary  for  you  to  miss  the 
train,  Powell.  You  have  exactly  one  hour 
and  twenty  minutes  in  which  to  make  it." 

I  made  no  reply,  for  just  then  the  girls 
joined  us. 

"Let  me  get  you  a  wrap,  Janet,  and  we  will 
sit  out  here  on  the  porch,"  I  said  as  soon  as 


196       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

the  others  disappeared  down  the  dark,  shad- 
owy walk.  . 

She  agreed,  slipped  on  a  light  coat,  and  we 
sat  down  in  the  swing.  Yet  now  that  we  were 
alone  it  seemed  to  me  that  some  barrier  rose 
between  us.  She  was  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
swing,  lightly  humming  a  tune,  while  I  sat 
stiffly  at  the  other.  I  felt  that  I  must  say 
something,  but  I  did  not  know  how  to  begin. 
She  had  such  elusive  ways  that  I  did  not  seem 
to  know  how  to  approach  again  the  subject  of 
our  marriage.  She  seemed  to  look  through 
one,  to  dissect  and  analyze  his  unspoken 
thoughts.  It  was  this  power  of  keen  penetra- 
tion that  disturbed  and  disquieted  me. 

Suddenly  she  stopped  humming  and  leaned 
back  against  the  swing,  partly  turning  away 
from  me  and  gazing  into  space  with  a  wist- 
ful expression  upon  her  upturned  face.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  she  was  vaguely  smiling, 
with  her  eyes  full  of  tears. 

And  I  had  doubted  this  frail  girl!  As  I 
looked  at  her  I  became  enraged  with  myself 
for  thinking  such  heresy.  Youth  and  inno- 
cence were  clearly  stamped  upon  her,  yet  a  de- 
sire to  know — to  know  the  truth — at  once — 
possessed  me.  I  would  not  be  at  peace  until 
I  understood  everything.  I  could  feel  the 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       197 

tassel  in  my  pocket,  and  it  seemed  almost  to 
burn  through  the  flesh  and  into  my  heart  be- 
neath. I  was  about  to  pull  it  from  my  pocket 
when  the  words  came  to  my  mind : 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  this  yer  tassel,  Dr. 
Talmar  would  never  have  been  murdered." 

The  sentence  rang  in  my  ears,  and  I  was 
conscious  of  nothing  but  the  formless  fancies 
that  pursued  one  another  through  my  unset- 
tled brain.  The  sentence  made  me  feel 
strangely — as  if  I  were  drifting  alone  upon 
the  waters  of  an  unquiet  sea ;  and  I  was  afraid. 
My  hand  dropped  from  my  pocket  to  my  side. 

"You  are  exceptionally  entertaining  to- 
night, Clarke,"  said  Janet,  speaking  for  the 
first  time  since  we  had  entered  the  swing. 

"It's  true  that  I'm  not  talking  very  fluently, 
Janet.  Pardon  me  if  I  have  seemed  preoc- 
cupied. Words  are  of  little  consequence;  my 
happiness  is  in  being  with  you." 

"But  you  are  not  happy,  Clarke." 

"You  know  why." 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  repeated  softly,  looking  out 
over  the  lawn  with  dreamy,  wistful  eyes. 
"Happiness  is  selfish;  besides,  it  is  not  all  of 
life,"  she  added  with  a  sigh.  I  noticed  that 
her  hand  tightened  around  the  rope  of  the 
swing.  Her  mood  was  hardly  more  cheerful 


198        THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

than  my  own,  which  was  governed  by  such 
depression  as  even  her  proximity  could  not 
dispel.  Indeed,  when  the  time  came  to  leave 
her  I  was  conscious  of  a  greater  sense  of  sad- 
ness than  I  had  ever  known. 

Exactly  at  the  appointed  time  I  reached 
Bennett's  office  but,  to  my  astonishment,  I 
found  him  in  the  hall  preparing  to  leave. 

"Here,  where  are  you  going?"  I  called. 

"I  can't  talk  to  you,  Powell.  You  mustn't 
detain  me.  I'll  be  back  in  about  an  hour." 

"No,  you'll  not  go.  I  intend  to  talk  to  you 
now.  You  may  go  after  you  have  heard  what 
I  have  to  say." 

"Powell,  I  can't,  I  tell  you.  I've  had  a  tele- 
phone message — " 

"I  won't  take  but  ten  minutes  of  your  time." 

"Well,  if  that's  all,  go  ahead.  Say  it  right 
here.  I've  locked  the  office  and  I'm  not  go- 
ing back  there." 

"Then  come  back  into  the  hall — away  from 
the  elevator."  He  obeyed  reluctantly,  and  I 
resumed:  "You  have  published  a  story  and 
used  my  name  without  authority.  Your 
theme  was  the  theory  of  Dr.  Talmar.  I  wrote 
a  story,  using  the  same  theme,  and  sold  it 
to  Hammond's.  Now  Moultrie  has  threat- 
ened me  with  a  suit." 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       199 

Bennett  raised  his  brows  as  if  in  astonish- 
ment. I  paid  no  heed  to  this,  but  went  on 
breathlessly:  "He  will  compromise  provided 
I  get  for  him  a  manuscript  by  Douglas  White. 
Now,  look  here,  Bennett,  what  I  think  of  your 
part  in  this  complication  can  be  left  for  some 
other  time ;  what  I  want  of  you  now  is  a  manu- 
script by  that  author.  You  know  where  I 
can  locate  him;  I'm  sure  that  you  can,  and  so 
is  Moultrie.  Since  you  got  me  into  this 
trouble,  it  is  up  to  you  to  extricate  me  from 
it." 

He  stood  still  in  breathless  astonishment, 
and  when  I  had  finished  he  placed  his  hand 
with  a  restraining  gesture  upon  my  arm,  and 
said: 

"Clarke,  I  am  innocent  of  any  intentional 
wrong-doing.  I  did  not  know  you  had  writ- 
ten such  a  story,  nor  did  I  think  you  would 
care  if  I  put  your  name  to  mine.  In  God's 
name,  man,  believe  me!  As  for  Douglas 
White,  I  know  no  more  about  him  than  you 
do." 

"Don't  tell  me  that,  Bennett.  I  can  stand 
anything  but  lies."  My  anger  was  rising.  I 
could  feel  the  blood  mounting  to  my  head. 

"Do  you  suppose  I  would  refuse  you  his 
address  if  I  knew?"  He  too  was  angry  now, 


200       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

as  I  knew  by  the  loud,  hard  tone  of  his  voice. 
"I  tell  you  I  know  nothing  of  the  man's  where- 
abouts. I  am  sorry,  but  I  cannot  help  you 
out  in  this.  If  Moultrie  had  asked  for  any- 
thing else,  I  would  have  turned  everything 
topsy-turvy  to  help  you.  I  can't  wait,  Powell, 
to  discuss  it  with  you  now.  I'm  in  a  hurry. 
But,  on  my  honor  as  man  to  man,  I  assure 
you  that  I  know  absolutely  nothing  about 
Douglas  White." 

He  turned  from  me,  stopped  the  elevator 
on  its  downward  trip,  and  shot  down  the  shaft. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  SERIES  OF  SURPRISES 

I  SPENT  the  following  morning  visiting 
every  editorial  sanctum  in  the  city,  but 
I  could  get  no  information  as  to  Douglas 
White's  identity  or  address.  I  was  somewhat 
skeptical  of  the  stories  told  by  several  of  the 
editors  in  regard  to  the  matter  and  there  was 
one  especially  who  I  was  convinced  was  aware 
of  White's  address,  and  on  whom  I  wasted 
much  time  arguing  with  him  desperately, — 
trying  every  conceivable  form  of  persuasion 
to  learn  his  secret,  but  all  to  no  avail. 

I  was  utterly  hopeless  when  I  left  the  last 
office.  I  felt  that  not  only  Bennett  had  lied 
to  me,  but  that  all  the  world  had  conspired 
to  deceive  me.  Who  could  cope  with  it  all? 
Bennett's  prevarications  were  of  less  signifi- 
cance to  me  than  those  of  the  others,  for  I  had 
gradually  become  accustomed  to  his  false- 
hoods. What  better  could  I  expect  of  him, — 
a  man  who  had  fallen  so  low?  Of  course,  the 

morphine  habit  was  the  root  of  the  evil ;  it  had 

201 


202       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

created  a  new  being.  This  man  was  not  Wal- 
ter Bennett, — the  Walt  Bennett  I  had  known 
and  loved  since  youth, — but  a  fiend  who  had 
usurped  the  body  of  the  man  I  once  knew. 
Only  the  outward  form  remained. 

I  was  now  exhausted,  my  head  ached,  my 
whole  body  was  weary,  my  spirit  was  sick.  I 
had  walked  a  number  of  miles,  and  with  each 
mile  the  hope  of  success  had  become  less  and 
less  until  it  had  died.  I  wanted  rest, — rest  of 
body  and  of  mind, — so  I  went  home.  As  I 
entered  my  room  a  number  of  letters  on  my 
table  caught  my  eye.  Mechanically  I  ex- 
amined them,  and  without  interest  I  opened 
a  large  oblong  envelope,  without  address,  that 
chanced  to  be  on  the  top  of  the  pile.  It  con- 
tained a  typewritten  manuscript  of  about 
three  thousand  words, — a  short  story.  Its 
title  was  "Inspiration,"  and  below  the  title  was 
the  name  of  the  author, — Douglas  White. 

Too  dazed  to  think,  I  stood  like  one  petri- 
fied, holding  the  sheets  with  trembling  fingers 
while  the  words  burned  like  fire  into  my  brain. 
Finally  the  full  realization  of  what  had  hap- 
pened broke  upon  me,  and  a  wave  of  happiness 
sent  the  blood  tingling  through  my  veins. 

"Miss  Craig,"  I  called  up  to  the  landlady, 
"may  I  see  you  for  a  moment,  please?" 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       203 

"Yes,  Mr.  Powell,"  she  replied,  coming 
down  the  stairs  and  leaning  against  the  banis- 
ters. 

"I  wanted  to  inquire  about  my  mail.  I 
found  a  large  envelope  on  my  table,  unad- 
dressed,  and — •" 

"Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Powell,  a  messenger  brought 
it  not  more  than  fifteen  minutes  ago." 

"Was  he  a  liveried  messenger  boy?"  I 
waited  breathlessly  for  her  answer. 

"No,  he  was  not.  I  took  the  letter  from 
him.  He  appeared  to  be  a  common  errand 
boy.  Is  there  any  trouble  about  it,  Mr. 
Powell?  You  seem  so  overwrought." 

"Oh,  no;  I  just  wanted  to  get  into  communi- 
cation with  him,  if  possible, — that's  all. 
Thank  you,  Miss  Craig." 

I  hurried  back  to  my  room  and  called  up  the 
editorial  office  of  Hammond's  Magazine. 

"I've  got  the  story,"  were  my  first  words 
to  Moultrie  as  soon  as  he  came  to  the  tele- 
phone. "Can  you  send  over  for  it?  ...  All 
right,  any  time  will  do.  I  shall  leave  it  with 
my  landlady,  in  case  I  go  out.  .  .  .  Yes,  I'm 
open  for  congratulations.  I'll  come  over  to 
see  you  in  the  morning.  .  .  .  No,  not  now; 
I'm  too  tired." 

It  is  strange  how  quickly  one  responds  to 


204       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

emotion.  I  had  simply  been  lifted  from  the 
depths  of  despair  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of 
hope;  and  under  its  beneficent  influence  I 
grew  to  feel  that  my  future  was  assured;  that 
the  barrier  between  Janet  Negley  and  me 
would  some  day  be  broken  down,  and  that 
there  would  be  nothing  more  to  keep  us  apart. 
For  she  loved  me,  or  at  least  I  had  reason  to 
believe  that  she  did,  and  I  loved  her  madly. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  account  for  the  mys- 
terious gift  of  the  manuscript  written  by 
Douglas  White.  Bennett  had  undoubtedly 
thought  over  the  seriousness  of  my  situation 
and  had  decided  to  rectify  the  trouble  for  which 
he  was  responsible.  To  show  him  that  I  ap- 
preciated this  kind  act  I  would  go  to  him  at 
once  and  thank  him  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart.  So  I  hurried  from  the  house,  first, 
however,  handing  Douglas  White's  manuscript 
to  the  landlady,  with  instructions  to  give  it  to 
the  boy  who  would  call  for  it.  I  was  in  a 
happy  state  of  mind  as  I  walked  up  the  street. 
Truly,  I  thought,  luck  had  turned  my  way  at 
last.  I  was  almost  like  my  old  self  again; 
and  the  sense  of  this  return  to  the  normal  was 
soothing,  for  I  realized  that  I  had  been  bal- 
anced between  madness  and  sanity  for  the  past 
thirteen  days. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       205 

I  was  so  absorbed  in  thought  that  I  walked 
on  regardless  of  distance  or  direction  until  at 
length  I  woke  up  to  the  fact  that  I  was  on 
Madison  Avenue,  nearly  a  mile  out  of  my 
way.  At  first  I  thought  of  taking  a  car,  but 
later  determined  to  walk,  as  it  was  still  early, 
and  Bennett  would  not  leave  his  office  until 
six  o'clock. 

Crossing  the  street,  I  came  face  to  face  with 
a  man  walking  hurriedly  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. I  looked  up  at  him  absently, — and  some- 
thing about  the  fellow  arrested  my  attention. 
Turning,  I  caught  up  with  him  and  tapped 
him  on  the  shoulder. 

"Could  I  have  a  word  with  you?"  I  began 
as  he  turned  and  looked  me  straight  in  the 
eye.  It  was  the  consumptive-looking  fellow  I 
had  followed  to  the  Twelfth  Street  house,  and 
the  one  who  had  entered  the  Talmar  residence 
the  night  I  searched  it  in  quest  of  Janet  Neg- 
ley.  He  looked  at  me  closely,  but  evidently 
did  not  remember  having  seen  me  before. 

"I  am  a  friend  of  Bennett's,"  I  continued. 
The  fellow  started,  as  if  in  surprise,  then 
seemed  to  be  all  attention.  "If  you  will  an- 
swer my  question  I'll  give  you  any  amount  of 
money  you  ask, — that  is,  any  amount  within 


reason." 


206       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

His  expression  changed,  and  his  manner  be- 
came suddenly  cunning,  alert.  Yet,  as  he 
made  no  movement  to  leave,  I  felt  reassured. 
I  had  drawn  a  roll  of  bills  from  my  pocket  when 
I  had  finished  speaking.  We  were  on  a  side 
street,  just  off  Madison  Avenue,  and  the  man 
glanced  from  time  to  time  up  and  down  the 
street.  Meanwhile  he  was  eying  the  bills 
greedily.  I  began  to  fear  he  contemplated 
grabbing  the  money  and  running,  so  I  held 
tightly  to  the  roll  in  my  hand,  waiting  for  some 
word  from  him. 

"What's  your  question?"  he  asked  at  length. 

"If  you  will  tell  me  what  connection  this 
tassel  had  with  the  murder  of  Dr.  Talmar,  I 
will  give  you  this  roll  of  bills."  I  drew  out 
the  tassel  and  held  it  up  before  him. 

At  the  sight  of  that  bit  of  silk  he  started  in 
fright,  his  face  turned  an  ashy  hue,  and  like 
one  caught  in  a  trap,  he  looked  up  and 
down  the  street  as  if  calculating  his  chances 
of  escape.  I  was  becoming  impatient,  and 
feared  he  would  get  away  from  me  as  the  other 
fellow  had  done,  so  I  grabbed  his  arm  and 
shook  him,  saying  at  the  same  time,  to  reas- 
sure him: 

"I  don't  mean  you  any  harm.  I  simply 
want  to  know  for  personal  reasons.  I'm  not 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       207 

going  to  give  it  away  to  the  police.  I  do  not 
care  a  hang  about  the  murder,  who  committed 
it,  or  anything  else ;  but  I  do  want  to  know  the 
answer  to  this  question.  You  know,  so  you 
might  as  well  tell  me.  The  bills  are  yours  for 
the  answer.  As  soon  as  you  give  it  I'll  let  you 
go." 

The  fellow  looked  me  up  and  down  as  if 
measuring  my  strength  against  his.  I  ex- 
panded my  chest  and  straightened  my  broad 
shoulders  to  impress  him  with  my  power,  and 
to  show  him  how  weak  he  was  in  compari- 
son. 

"How  did  the  tassel  get  into  Dr.  Talmar's 
possession?"  I  demanded. 

I  saw  that  he  meant  to  answer,  for  he  ex- 
tended his  hand  for  the  money.  I  placed  it 
in  his  open  palm  as  he  uttered  these  words : 

"I  don't  know,  and  it's  too  late  to  find  out 
now." 

"Too  late  to  find  out  now?"  I  asked  anx- 
iously. "Why  is  it  too  late?" 

"Don't  you  know?" 

"Know  what?"  I  asked,  becoming  exasper- 
ated. 

"That  Bennett  is  dead." 

"Bennett  dead!     What  do  you  mean,  man?" 

"He  was  killed  in  an  automobile  accident. 


208       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

I've  just  been  to  the  hospital.  He  died  a  half- 
hour  ago.  I  saw  him  at  noon." 

"Don't  lie  to  me,  young  fellow;  this  is  a 
serious  affair."  I  was  like  one  dazed,  and 
could  hardly  grasp  the  situation.  Bennett 
dead!  It  was  terrible!  Poor  Vi! 

The  fellow  went  on  talking,  but  I  heard  only 
snatches  of  what  he  said,  so  overcome  was  I 
by  the  news.  "If  you  don't  believe  what  I  say, 
go  and  see  for  yourself,"  he  said  as  he  left. 

I  stood  a  moment,  then  turned  back  toward 
Madison  Avenue,  and  walked  a  block  before 
I  realized  that  I  had  not  asked  at  what  hospital 
I  might  find  Bennett.  I  looked  up  the  street, 
but  the  man  had  disappeared.  I  would  go  to 
the  office  at  once;  if  the  office  was  closed  I 
would  go  to  Vi. 

Though  I  felt  deeply  the  news  of  Bennett's 
death,  at  the  same  time  I  felt  that  it  was  prob- 
ably the  best  thing  that  could  have  happened. 
Yet  even  while  I  tried  to  reason  with  myself  in 
this  manner  I  found  that  the  sympathy  of  the 
lifelong  friendship  between  us  arose  again,  and 
my  regret  and  remorse  for  him  whom  I  had  so 
neglected  when  he  had  needed  me  most  was 
terrible. 

"There  is  nothing  like  the  sting  of  remorse." 
This  saying  I  had  heard  since  childhood,  but 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       209 

never  until  now  had  I  realized  its  actual  truth. 
I  was  as  unhappy  as  I  had  been  joyful  an  hour 
before.  I  walked  over  and  caught  a  Broad- 
way car  to  Bennett's  office. 

Entering  the  outer  office,  I  found  the  assist- 
ants working  at  their  desks  as  usual,  and  as  I 
closed  the  door  behind  me  I  heard  a  voice  say : 

"No,  I  won't  be  out  for  dinner,  Vi.  Don't 
wait  for  me." 

I  took  one  stride  toward  the  door  leading 
into  Bennett's  private  office,  and  looked  in. 
Standing  before  the  telephone,  the  receiver  at 
his  ear,  was  Walt  Bennett.  I  staggered  into 
his  room  and  fell  into  a  chair  at  his  desk. 

Bennett  hung  up  the  receiver  and  came  to- 
ward me.  I  had  thrown  my  elbows  on  the 
desk  and  placed  my  hands  to  my  head. 

"What's  the  matter,  Powell?" 

I  lifted  my  head  and  looked  him  over.  "I 
was  told  you  were  in  an  automobile  accident 
and  had  been  killed,  that  your  body  was  at 
this  moment  in  the  hospital." 

I  expected  him  to  laugh,  as  would  have  been 
natural  in  a  case  like  that;  but  he  did  not. 
He  looked  sad  and  disconsolate. 

"I  am  sorry,  Powell.     There  is  a  mistake." 

He  handed  me  a  newspaper.  I  read  the 
heading  of  the  column  he  indicated :  "Another 


210       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

Automobile  Accident.  A  man  by  the  name 
of  Dr.  Leroy  Bennett  was  seriously  injured  in 
an  automobile  collision  last  night  at  about 
eleven  o'clock  on  lower  Broadway.  He  was 
taken  to  the  Mercy  Hospital.  There  is  said 
to  be  but  little  chance  for  his  recovery." 

I  read  no  further  but  glanced  up  at  Ben- 
nett. He  was  pacing  the  floor,  his  hands 
clasped  behind  his  back  and  his  head  bowed. 

"Bennett — "  I  began,  but  I  could  say  no 
more. 

A  choking  feeling  seized  my  throat,  and  I 
stopped. 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment,  then  said  quite 
calmly : 

"Powell,  you  deserve  an  explanation." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

EXPLANATIONS 

BENNETT  stopped  pacing  the  floor  as 
he  said  this,  and  dropped  into  a  chair. 
Straightening  his  shoulders,  he  pushed  the 
black  hair  back  from  his  forehead  and  began : 

"Clarke,  I  am  going  to  impose  one  condi- 
tion upon  you  before  I  being  this  explanation." 

"A  condition?"  I  asked. 

"Yes.  It  is  a  very  easy  one,  and  I  know 
you  will  accept  it;  otherwise  I  might  hesitate. 
Vi  must  know  nothing  of  what  I  am  about  to 
tell  you." 

"Walt,  your  confidence  will  not  be  be- 
trayed," I  responded  in  all  sincerity.  I  was 
waiting  impatiently  for  him  to  speak.  He 
seemed  reluctant  to  proceed,  and  hesitated  a 
long  time  before  he  began  at  length  in  a  me- 
tallic tone: 

"Clarke,  I  have  lived  in  hell  for  three  years. 
The  man  of  whose  death  you  have  just  read 
was  my  step-brother,  Dr.  Leroy  Bennett." 

I  started  to  speak,  but  he  said: 
211 


212       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"Wait!  Wait!  I  wish  to  be  perfectly 
frank  with  you.  If  I  had  done  so  months 
ago,  I  would  not  have  suffered  as  I  have." 
There  was  the  bitterness  of  shame  in  his  voice, 
and  I  stirred  uneasily  in  my  seat,  hardly 
breathing  in  my  intense  emotion  as  I  listened. 

"The  story  which  I  wish  to  tell  you  is  a  long 
one,"  Bennett  continued,  "but  I  shall  try  to 
make  it  as  short  and  explicit  as  possible. 
Three  years  ago,  exactly  to  the  month,  my 
step-brother,  scarcely  more  than  a  slip  of  a 
boy, — twenty-three  at  most, — came  to  Amer- 
ica. He  came  to  me  one  day  and  made  himself 
known.  I  discerned  from  our  conversation 
that  the  boy  was  a  degenerate,  and  that  he 
had  fled  to  America  to  escape  a  criminal  charge 
in  Paris.  He  had  been  a  medical  student  in 
Paris  prior  to  coming  to  his  native  country. 
I  told  him  I  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
him,  but  he  threatened  to  tell  Vi  of  his  iden- 
tity, so  I  agreed  to  lend  him  some  money,  pro- 
vided he  kept  his  presence  secret.  That  was 
the  beginning  of  a  series  of  blackmail  schemes 
carried  through  by  him  and  his  confederates, 
a  number  of  low,  disreputable  fellows  with 
whom  he  had  connected  himself.  Once  started 
I  could  not  turn  back;  every  incident  sealed 
my  lips  more  and  more.  So  the  endless  chain 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       213 

continued,  he  constantly  drawing  upon  me  for 
large  sums,  with  threats  of  exposure  and  ruin 
if  I  did  not  acquiesce  in  his  demands.  Thus 
it  continued  until  the  murder  of  Dr.  Talmar. 
Shortly  afterward  he  came  to  me  and  con- 
fessed that  he  had  committed  the  crime,  de- 
claring that  unless  I  paid  him  a  large  sum  of 
money  he  would  give  himself  up  and  make 
known  to  the  public  his  close  relationship  with 
me.  For  Vi's  sake  I  would  have  complied, 
but  I  did  not  have  the  money.  It  was  prac- 
tically financial  ruin  to  me,  and  it  was  on  his 
account  that  I  was  staring  bankruptcy  in  the 
face.  I  refused  to  give  the  money  to  him, 
despairing  of  ever  keeping  the  matter  secret 
from  Vi.  Day  by  day  I  read  the  papers,  ex- 
pecting each  time  to  find  an  account  of  his  cap- 
ture and  confession.  The  days  passed  and 
nothing  happened.  Vi  had  not  been  told,  and 
I  breathed  easier;  but  always  the  gloom  of 
calamity  hovered  over  me,  and  I  lived  in  a 
constant  panic  of  fear." 

Bennett  stopped  abruptly,  breathing  hard 
and  with  his  hands  tensely  clasping  the  arms 
of  the  chair ;  then  he  arose  and  continued  talk- 
ing, pacing  the  floor  restlessly  as  he  spoke. 

"I  have  known,  Powell,  that  circumstances 
have  made  you  suspicious  of  me,  but  I  was  tied 


214       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

hand  and  foot.  What  could  I  do  but  shield 
this  boy  who  was  of  my  own  blood — regard- 
less of  consequences?"  He  stopped  and 
gazed  through  the  window  into  space. 

I  could  not  answer.  My  tongue  was  dry 
and  parched,  while  my  throat  seemed  par- 
alyzed. My  heart  ached  for  him.  Conflicting 
thoughts,  fragmentary  sentences,  and  tangled 
situations  flashed  through  my  brain  in  one  mad 
whirl.  The  light  of  day  was  dawning  for  me, 
but  it  brought  neither  comfort  nor  solace;  my 
feeling  of  unworthiness  was  too  keen  for  that. 
I  arose  and  weakly  extended  my  hand. 

"Bennett,  will  you — can  you  accept  my 
friendship?"  My  voice  broke. 

He  looked  down  at  my  outstretched  hand 
and  for  a  moment  I  feared  he  hesitated,  but 
my  doubt  was  soon  dispelled.  He  took  it  in 
a  strong  clasp,  saying: 

"Why  shouldn't  I  accept  it,  Clarke?  You 
are  the  best  friend  a  man  ever  had.  Human 
nature  is  weak  in  the  best  of  us,  Clarke,  and 
but  few  men  have  the  loyalty  and  honor  that 
you  possess.  You  have  had  sufficient  reasons 
for  suspicion,  yet  you  did  not  turn  from  me 
entirely." 

I  turned  my  head  away  from  him,  as  he 
still  held  my  hand  clasped  in  his. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       215 

So  unworthy  of  his  words  did  I  feel  that  I 
could  not  look  him  in  the  face.  He  resumed 
placidly : 

"Doubt  and  jealousy  are  the  two  most 
powerful  foes  to  friendship,  and  you  not  only 
doubted  me  but  you  were  jealous  of  my  at- 
tentions to  Janet  Negley." 

At  the  sound  of  her  name  I  started  slightly. 

"Yes,  Walt,  I  was  jealous,"  I  replied. 

"You  had  every  cause  for  jealousy,"  he  an- 
swered quickly.  "I  even  went  so  far  as  to 
tell  you  that  I  had  proposed  to  her,  but  that 
was  before  I  knew  that  you  loved  her.  But 
I  wish  you  would  explain  just  why  you  sus- 
pected me  of  being  connected  with  the  murder 
of  Dr.  Talmar.  Some  of  the  incidents  are  ob- 
vious, others  are  not." 

"I  will  give  in  detail  the  incidents  that 
aroused  my  suspicions,  but  you  must  unravel 
them  for  me.  Even  now  I  cannot  understand 
all  the  connection.  First,  Walt,  why  did  you 
have  a  red  toupee  secretly  hidden  in  your 
office?" 

"Oh,  you  saw  that,  did  you?  I  could  laugh, 
were  the  situation  less  serious.  That's  where 
it  all  started,  eh?  Confound  it,  when  I  come 
to  think  of  it,  you  did  have  some  good  reasons 
for  doubt.  I  never  thought  of  the  toupee 


216       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

again,  but  I  can  see  an  obvious  connection 
there.  Leroy  had  red  hair.  A  wonderful  co- 
incidence,— wonderful,  Clarke!  The  thought 
had  never  entered  my  head  before." 

"But  do  explain!"  I  exclaimed  impatiently. 
"There  are  a  hundred  things  to  be  explained. 
Why  did  you  have  the  red  toupee?  How  did 
you  learn  about  the  Doctor's  rejuvenating 
theory?  When  did  you  get  the  story  by 
Douglas  White,  and — " 

"I  would  have  to  start  at  the  very  begin- 
ning, Clarke,"  he  interrupted.  "Do  you  re- 
call the  morning  I  called  you  over  here  to  the 
office  and  wanted  a  story?  You  refused  me, 
by  the  way.  Well,  while  you  were  here  I  re- 
ceived a  note  from  Vi  asking  me  to  come  to 
Shetland  that  night  to  bring  her  home.  Did 
I  not  say  I  had  an  engagement,  a  social  en- 
gagement? I  had  promised  a  friend  of  mine, 
who  resides  on  our  street  in  Harlem,  to  attend 
a  masquerade  party  that  night,  which  he  was 
giving  for  his  daughter.  I  had  bought  the  red 
toupee  for  that  affair.  I  did  not  choose  red 
voluntarily — that  was  the  only  color  the  mer- 
chant had  in  stock." 

"Go  on — go  on,"  I  said;  "it  is  so  absurd,  now 
that  I  understand." 

"I  went  to  the  ball,"  continued  Bennett, 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       217 

"but  left  for  Shetland  after  an  hour.  I  found 
both  the  girls  quite  upset  over  what  Janet 
called  a  mania  of  her  father.  She  told  me  all 
about  the  advertisement  he  had  inserted  in  the 
evening  paper,  of  the  numerous  applicants, 
and  of  the  proposition  he  made  to  each.  Later, 
after  I  had  taken  Vi  home,  I  went  to  the  office 
and  put  the  red  toupee  beside  the  bookcase. 
Then  I  began  to  write  down  the  doctor's  story 
just  as  Vi  and  Janet  had  told  it  to  me.  I 
finished  half  of  it  that  night.  There  you  are, 
Clarke." 

"Go  on;  what  did  you  do  next?" 
"I'm  almost  ashamed  to  confess  this,  Clarke, 
but  I  saw  you  in  Doctor  Talmar's  office  that 
night  as  one  of  the  applicants,  and  I  was  con- 
siderably upset  the  next  morning  when  I 
learned  he  had  been  murdered.  You  had 
looked  straight  at  me  without  making  the 
slightest  sign  of  recognition.  I  thought  this 
was  strange,  but  decided  you  did  not  want  me 
to  know  of  your  presence  there.  I  studied 
over  the  affair,  and  tried  my  best  not  to  doubt 
you ;  but  I  knew  you  were  not  looking  around 
for  story  material,  for  you  had  just  told  me 
that  you  would  write  nothing  more  for  the 
time  being.  I  sincerely  ask  your  pardon, 
Clarke." 


218       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"You  need  not  bother  about  that;  we  are 
even  on  that  score.  How  about  your  propos- 
ing to  Janet  Negley,  and  then  reneging?" 

"Yes,  Clarke,  I  proposed  to  Janet — and 
this  part  I  told  you,  but  you  do  not  know  about 
the  other." 

"Never  mind;  tell  me  about  it." 

"You  seem  to  know  as  much  about  it  as  I 
do." 

"No,  I  am  entirely  in  the  dark." 

"Well,  the  day  after  I  proposed  to  Janet, 
Leroy  came  into  my  office  and  told  me  of  his 
having  killed  Doctor  Talmar.  Of  course  with 
this  knowledge  I  could  not  continue  wooing 
her,  and  could  not  marry  her,  even  if  I  could 
gain  her  consent.  It  was  foolish  to  do  as  I 
did,  but  I  was  like  an  insane  man;  and  I  have 
been  even  more  irrational  since." 

"Has  your  brother  told  you  what  part  the 
Persian  tassel  played  in  the  tragedy?"  I  asked. 
"Or  why  he  abducted  Janet  Negley?" 

"He  stole  Janet  for  the  money  which  he 
thought  she  had.  I  did  not  know  any  of  the 
details,  Powell,  until  to-day  at  the  hospital 
when  Leroy  confessed  everything  in  full.  Un- 
til noon  to-day  I  knew  nothing  more  than  that 
he  was  connected  with  the  murder  of  Doctor 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       219 

Talmar;  although,  of  course,  I  suspected  that 
he  had  played  some  part  in  the  abduction." 

''Did  he  confess  to  the  prescriptions?  To 
the  drugging  of  Janet?" 

"Yes,  Clarke;  but  the  morphine  was  for  his 
own  personal  use.  He  was  a  morphine  fiend, 
and  it  was  that  drug  that  had  led  him  into  a 
life  of  crime." 

"He  drugged  Janet?"  I  interrupted. 

"Yes;  but  he  did  not  use  morphine.  He 
placed  a  handkerchief  saturated  with  ether 
over  her  face;  then,  after  she  became  uncon- 
scious, he  carried  her  to  a  drug  store  and 
'phoned  for  a  taxi.  I  suppose  that  is  where 
you  found  the  prescriptions, — at  the  Euclid 
Pharmacy.  One  of  them,  as  you  know,  is  an 
antidote  for  morphine  which  he  always  car- 
ried, to  use  in  case  he  should  accidentally  take 
an  overdose  of  the  drug." 

"Where  did  he  take  Janet?" 

"To  a  house  on  Twelfth  Street,"  replied 
Bennett. 

"But  from  there,  I  mean?  The  woman  at 
the  house  told  me  that  the  man  and  the  girl 
had  been  there  but  had  left  again.  Where  did 
he  take  her  from  there?" 

"The  woman  must  have  been  lying,  Clarke, 


220       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

for  he  took  Janet  directly  there  from  the  drug 
store,  and  she  did  not  leave  until  she  was  set 
free." 

"Why  did  they  decide  to  set  her  free?" 

"As  a  compromise." 

"How? 

"Janet  was  to  tell  them  where  they  could 
find  the  ten  thousand  dollars." 

"Did  she  know?"  I  had  arisen  in  my  chair, 
all  attention,  my  heart  palpitating. 

"Apparently  not.  It  was  a  ruse  to  get 
away.  She  directed  them  to  our  house,  which 
they  ransacked;  then,  being  unsuccessful,  they 
visited  Shetland  the  same  night." 

"Yes,  Bennett,  I  suppose  you  are  right. 
But  you  haven't  told  me  about  that,"  I  con- 
tinued, pulling  the  tassel  from  my  pocket  and 
tossing  it  across  to  him. 

He  picked  it  up,  glanced  at  it,  then  looked 
over  at  me. 

"Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"Never  mind." 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  turned  and 
twisted  the  article  in  his  hands,  then  said: 

"There  is  an  enigma  here,  Powell,  which  I 
can't  exactly  solve.  How  did  the  tassel  get 
into  Doctor  Talmar's  hand?  Leroy  said  it 
was  the  tassel  that  misled  him." 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       221 

"How?  Tell  me  about  it.  Tell  me  the 
story, — the  story  as  told  you  by  him.  Of  the 
killing,  I  mean,"  I  stammered  awkwardly  in 
my  haste. 

"I  will  tell  you  the  story,  Clarke,  just  as  he 
told  it  to  me  to-day  only  a  short  time  before  he 
died.  Leroy  answered  the  advertisement  but 
was  refused  a  hearing,  as  the  doctor  did  not 
care  to  see  a  fair  type  of  man.  As  he  saun- 
tered down  the  walk  from  the  doctor's  resi- 
dence, he  decided  to  turn  and  look  into  the  of- 
fice. The  Doctor  was  talking  to  a  man, — you, 
from  his  description, — and  was  showing  you 
a  roll  of  bills.  Leroy  raised  the  window  care- 
fully and  overheard  the  conversation.  Then 
and  there  he  resolved  to  get  the  money.  It 
was  such  a  cold  night  that  he  could  not  stand 
outside  and  await  his  opportunity,  or  until  the 
Doctor  had  retired;  so  he  went  to  the  barn  in 
the  rear  and  concealed  himself  in  the  hay-loft. 
There  he  fell  asleep  and  did  not  awake  until 
after  five  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He  hurried 
toward  the  house  just  as  it  was  getting  light, 
and  climbed  onto  the  projecting  sill  beneath 
the  window  of  the  Doctor's  office.  Much  to  his 
disappointment  Doctor  Talmar  was  still  there. 
He  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  window, 
seemingly  counting  or  examining  something  in 


222        THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

his  hand.  The  idea  came  to  Leroy  that  it  was 
the  money.  A  few  moments  later  Dr.  Tal- 
mar  walked  to  a  chair,  threw  his  arms  out  over 
the  table,  and  buried  his  face  in  his  arms. 

"One  of  his  hands  was  tightly  closed,  as  if  he 
still  clutched  the  roll  of  bills.  He  appeared 
to  be  weeping;  his  shoulders  shook,  and  he 
opened  and  closed  the  hand  which  apparently 
held  the  money.  Leroy  waited  ten  minutes. 
His  feet  fairly  ached  and  his  fingers  were 
numb.  He  could  not  stay  outside  much 
longer,  for  daylight  was  coming  fast.  The 
Doctor  remained  quiet;  Leroy  waited  a  while 
longer,  thinking  that  perhaps  the  old  man 
would  fall  asleep  and  that  the  house  could  be 
entered  without  waking  him.  Finally  Leroy 
stealthily  raised  the  window  and  crept  on 
hands  and  feet  to  the  Doctor's  side.  The 
Doctor's  left  hand  lay  several  inches  over  the 
side  of  the  table,  and  was  still  closed.  Leroy 
placed  his  fingers  over  the  hand  and  slowly 
opened  it.  He  was  startled  to  see,  not  the 
roll  of  bills,  but  a  common  tassel  in  glittering 
colors  of  various  hues.  Doctor  Talmar  raised 
his  head  and  looked  straight  at  him  with  a  wild, 
insane  stare;  and  before  Leroy  could  move  or 
speak  had  thrust  a  revolver  between  them. 

"Leroy  said  the  minute  he  looked  into  the 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       223 

Doctor's  eyes  he  knew  he  had  to  deal  with  an 
insane  man.  The  instinct  of  self-protection 
came  to  him,  and  he  snatched  a  knife  from  the 
table  and  plunged  it  instantly  into  the  old 
man's  heart.  When  he  saw  what  he  had  done 
a  panic  of  fear  seized  him.  After  searching 
the  room  for  the  money,  which  he  could  not 
find,  he  decided  to  set  fire  to  the  house  in  an 
effort  to  conceal  his  crime.  This  accom- 
plished, he  left  the  place." 

We  both  sat  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes. 

"Who  do  you  think  has  the  money,  Walt?" 
I  asked  at  length. 

"I  do  not  know,  but  I  rather  believe  it  was 
hidden  in  the  Doctor's  laboratory  and  was  de- 
stroyed by  the  fire." 

"How  did  the  tassel  come  to  be  in  the  Doc- 
tor's hand?" 

"I  have  no  theory  as  to  that,"  he  quickly 
replied,  then  looked  up  at  me  meaningly: 
"Where  did  you  get  it,  Clarke?" 

"At  the  Talmar  home,  after  the  tragedy." 

"How?" 

"On  the  floor  of  the  Doctor's  office,  where 
apparently  it  had  fallen  unnoticed." 

"It  is  strange  the  officers  did  not  find  it." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  I  replied.  I  was  trying  to  piece 
together  the  explanations  Bennett  had  given  me 


224        THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

and  connect  them  with  what  I  knew.  The  con- 
nected links  made  a  perfect  chain.  The  red- 
headed man  on  the  train  was  Leroy  Bennett, 
and  he  was  the  Bennett  referred  to  by  the  two 
men  in  the  Ninth  Street  tavern.  No  wonder 
I  had  become  entangled  in  the  mesh  of  cir- 
cumstantial incidents.  A  man  of  more  power- 
ful mentality  than  myself  would  have  done 
the  same. 

"Bennett,  I  need  not  condole  with  you  over 
the  loss  of  your  brother,"  I  said,  rising.  "He 
has  brought  you  more  sorrow  in  life  than  his 
untimely  demise  could  possibly  arouse  now. 
What  you  have  told  me  must  have  relieved 
your  mind;  I  must  confess  that  it  has  relieved 
mine.  It  has  lifted  a  great  load  from  me.  If 
you  will  accept  the  renewal  of  my  friendship 
for  the  future,  it  is  yours.  Let's  forget  these 
few  weeks  of  torment,  and  let  me  show  in  some 
way  my  appreciation  of  your  securing  for  me  a 
story  by  Douglas  White.  But  just  how  I  can 
do  this  I  do  not  know." 

A  puzzled  expression  came  to  his  face.  "A 
story  from  Douglas  White,  did  you  say?  I 
know  nothing  of  it,  Clarke.  But  I  saw  Dodge 
this  morning,  and  he  said  if  he  could  possibly 
get  you  a  story  he  would.  He  thinks  a  good 
deal  of  your  future;  says  you  are  one  of  the 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL        225 

coming  authors.  Yes,  I  suppose  it  is  Dodge 
you  must  thank.  I  told  the  truth  all  the  time 
about  the  manuscript  that  I  received  from 
White.  It  is  a  strange  affair;  still  it  hap- 
pened, and  I  wish  he  would  send  me  an- 
other." 

"Well,  there  is  nothing  that  can  surprise  me 
now,"  I  said.  "You  say  Vi  knows  nothing 
about  Leroy?" 

"Nothing  at  all.  She  knows  that  we  have 
a  step-brother  abroad  somewhere,  but  that  is 
all.  I  have  never  told  her  he  was  in  America. 
Vi  and  I  are  his  only  living  relatives.  I  shall 
attend  to  his  burial,  in  private." 

I  now  arose  to  go,  yet  hesitated.  Things 
were  not  entirely  clear  in  my  mind.  I  was  far 
from  happy,  although  a  great  load  had  been 
taken  from  me.  Bennett  was  innocent  and  I 
thanked  God  most  reverently  for  that,  but 
Janet's  connection  with  the  affair  was  still  un- 
explained. I  did  not  say  anything  to  Ben- 
nett about  that  part  of  it.  It  was  my  secret, 
and  if  Janet  would  marry  me  I  would  gladly 
dismiss  the  whole  affair  from  my  mind. 

"Oh,  about  my  story,  Clarke, — my  using 
your  name.  Can  you  ever  forgive  me?  You 
understand,  of  course,  that  I  never  thought 
for  a  moment  you  would  care,  or  that  you  con- 


226        THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

sidered  writing  anything  of  the  kind  your- 
self." 

"Don't  let's  discuss  it,  Bennett.  It  is  all 
right  now,  but — "  I  stopped.  "You  certainly 
had  me  going  on  several  occasions.  I  found 
a  memorandum  on  your  desk  one  night  which 
read  something  like  this :  'Abduction,  confes- 
sion, marriage.'  On  the  other  side  was: 
'Meet  me  to-night  at  13  Riverside  and  will  dis- 
cuss the  abduction.'  That  was  the  substance 
of  it,  although  I  have  forgotten  the  exact 
words.  I  can  tell  you  I  conjured  up  mental 
pictures  equal  to  those  of  any  dope  fiend.  I 
could  see  you  planning  the  abduction  and  the 
whole  affair." 

"Yes,  Clarke,  that  was  another  coincidence. 
My  writing  of  the  abduction  before  it  ever  hap- 
pened, or  possibly  even  before  it  was  planned 
by  Leroy,  was  very  strange.  I  made  the 
memorandum  for  developing  my  story,  never 
dreaming  that  it  would  turn  out  as  it  did  in 
reality." 

"Where  did  you  go  last  night  after  you  left 
me  in  such  a  hurry?"  I  asked  abruptly. 

"To  the  hospital.     Leroy  had  just  sent  for 


me." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

DOUGLAS  WHITE 

AFTER  leaving  Bennett's  office  I  went 
directly  to  my  rooms,  changed  my 
clothes,  then  stopped  at  a  restaurant  for  din- 
ner, before  catching  a  train  for  Shetland.  I 
intended  leaving  early  so  as  to  have  a  full  even- 
ing with  Janet,  but  I  missed  the  six-forty- 
five  train,  so  that  it  was  after  eight  o'clock 
when  I  reached  my  destination. 

Janet  was  seated  at  the  piano  as  I  entered 
the  room.  I  stopped  between  the  partly 
closed  folding-doors  and  looked  in.  She  was 
alone,  and  evidently  had  not  heard  me  enter, 
for  she  seemed  entirely  unconscious  of  my  pres- 
ence. She  was  beautifully  dressed  in  a  flimsy 
white  dress  of  transparent  material,  cut  low 
at  the  neck  and  practically  sleeveless,  with  the 
exception  of  a  short  cap  at  the  shoulders  and 
a  shower  of  pearl  beads  that  gracefully 
dropped  upon  her  arms.  A  red  rose  was  the 
only  bit  of  color  she  wore.  Her  tawny  hair 

227 


228        THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

was  piled  in  careless  masses  upon  her  head  and 
seemed  to  accentuate  her  girlishness. 

And  this  frail  bit  of  womanhood  was  the 
cause  of  all  my  unrest — and  this  feeling  she 
had  aroused  within  me  was  love!  Love! — an 
esthetic  joy  when  reciprocated,  but  a  torturing 
flame  when  doubt  and  suspicion  intervene. 

Janet  glanced  over  her  shoulder  and  our 
eyes  met.  She  arose  and  came  toward  me 
smiling,  with  extended  hand.  Suddenly  her 
fleeting  expression  of  pleasure  vanished,  and 
changed  in  quick  succession  from  anxiety  to 
alarm. 

"Clarke,  you  look  ill,"  she  said. 

"Impossible!"  I  answered  evasively.  "It 
must  be  the  light." 

"But  you  are  so  pale,  Clarke." 

"Well,  if  so,  you  are  to  blame.  I  have  been 
listening  to  you  sing."  I  was  standing  close 
beside  her,  looking  down  into  her  face,  while 
it  seemed  that  with  each  breath  I  gave  the 
pressure  of  the  tassel  in  my  pocket  became 
greater.  But  in  a  moment  I  had  folded  her 
in  my  arms,  scarcely  breathing  in  the  inten- 
sity of  my  feeling. 

"Janet,"  I  almost  whispered,  "I  have  come 
for  my  answer.  I  cannot  endure  the  suspense 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL        229 

any  longer.  Doubt  and  worry  are  killing  me. 
I  cannot  stand  this  indefinitely." 

She  moved  slightly  in  my  arms,  and  I  re- 
laxed my  clasp  somewhat,  for  I  saw  that  she 
wanted  to  speak. 

"What  is  it,  Clarke?  You  doubt  me?" 
She  had  drawn  away  from  me  slightly,  and 
her  eyes  searched  mine  inquiringly. 

"The  doubt  and  worry  concern  your  answer, 
Janet,"  I  replied,  lowering  my  eyes. 

"Is  that  all,  Clarke?  Tell  me!"  Her 
words  and  manner  veiled  the  anxiety  she 
wished  to  hide,  yet  I  could  see  that  she  was 
laboring  under  the  tension  and  was  fighting 
hard  for  self-control. 

I  made  no  answer,  hardly  knowing  what  to 
say.  It  would  be  much  easier  to  prevaricate 
than  to  tell  her  the  truth  and  possibly  run  the 
risk  of  losing  her  forever,  yet  I  could  not  lie 
to  her.  She  now  stood  leaning  against  a  chair ; 
and  I  could  see  that  the  battle  with  herself  had 
been  won,  for  she  stood  calmly  awaiting  my 
answer. 

I  took  a  step  toward  her — then  hesitated. 
I  felt  that  the  fatal  hour  had  struck,  and  that 
nothing  could  prevent  a  denouement.  Silence 
reigned  in  the  room,  scarcely  could  our  breath- 


230       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

ing  be  heard;  yet  my  heart  palpitated  noisily 
and  each  beat  was  added  pain. 

Still  Janet  stood  silent,  waiting  for  me  to 
speak.  An  imperative  tug  at  my  heart  bade 
me  proceed;  yet  I  hesitated.  Would  I  lose 
her  if  I  told  the  truth?  A  shiver  passed  over 
me.  I  gripped  the  chair  in  front  of  me.  I 
found  myself  resisting  a  sudden  and  violent 
impulse  to  laugh  aloud.  Janet's  complacent 
waiting  reacted  upon  my  shattered  nerves. 
Then,  with  a  rush,  my  mental  faculties  came 
back.  A  moment  before  I  was  in  quicksand, 
but  now  I  was  on  solid  earth  once  more. 
Honor  and  reason  triumphed  over  weakness 
and  irresolution.  I  realized  that  although  I 
had  been  weak  when  face  to  face  with  the 
thought  of  losing  Janet,  I  had  now  subjugated 
my  fear  and  was  beyond  danger  of  temptation. 

Janet  gazed  at  me  in  tense  silence. 

"Thank  you,  Janet,  for  giving  me  time  to 
think  and  collect  my  scattered  wits  before 
speaking,"  I  began.  Taking  the  Persian  tas- 
sel from  my  pocket,  I  held  it  up  for  her  to  see. 
I  saw  her  eyes  open  wide  with  surprise;  then 
she  slowly  lowered  her  head  until  her  chin 
rested  upon  the  chair  back. 

I  ran  to  her,  put  my  arms  around  her,  and 
lifted  her  face  until  her  eyes  met  mine. 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       231 

"Janet,  Janet!  I  wish  to  take  no  unfair 
advantage.  I  do  not  want  an  explanation.  I 
want  your  answer.  Will  you  marry  me  at 
once?  I  do  not  care  to  know  anything  about 
the  tassel.  It  was  you  who  commanded  me 
to  tell  you."  I  stopped,  breathless. 

Twice  she  tried  to  speak,  but  was  unable  to 
utter  a  word.  I  waited  impatiently,  holding 
her  to  me  in  a  tight  embrace.  Finally  she 
drew  away  from  me  and  seated  herself  on  the 
lounge. 

"Let  me  think.  Yes;  I  must  tell  you, 
Clarke.  It  is  hard,  but  I  must." 

The  emotion  in  her  voice  terrified  me,  yet  I 
tightened  my  lips  and  managed  to  say  quite 
calmly : 

"Janet,  do  not  speak  if  it  pains  you.  I  do 
not  wish  to  know.  You  are  innocent  of  any 
wrong,  no  matter  how  accusing  circumstances 
may  seem.  I  love  you;  is  not  that  sufficient?" 

"Yes,  Clarke;  but  I  can  never  be  happy 
until  I  explain  to  you  what  I  know.  First  tell 
me  where  you  got  that  tassel." 

"From  Phyllis,  the  day  after  the  tragedy, 
when  I  came  out  to  Shetland  to  see  if  I  could 
find  any  clue  to  the  murder."  I  seated  myself 
beside  her  on  the  lounge  as  I  was  saying  this. 

"Clarke,"   she   began  determinedly,   "first, 


232       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

I  must  make  you  understand  the  motive  for 
what  transpired,  then  it  will  be  easier  to  ex- 
plain what  followed.  I  never  expected  to 
have  to  tell  you  this." 

"And  yet  you  said  you  could  not  give  me 
your  answer  on  account  of  something  con- 
nected with — " 

"Yes;  that  is  so,"  she  interrupted. 

"And  you  would  have  given  me  up?" 

"I  am  afraid  so." 

"Oh,  Janet!" 

"Don't,  Clarke,  please.  Let  me  tell  you 
all.  The  night  father  put  an  advertisement 
in  the  paper  I  was  nearly  wild.  I  did  not 
want  him  to  risk  his  life  and  that  of  another 
in  what  I  considered  an  insane  experiment.  I 
had  worked  for  three  years  to  prevent  him 
from  carrying  out  his  plans ;  but  all  to  no  pur- 
pose. He  had  accumulated  his  ten  thousand 
dollars  and  was  determined  to  carry  out  his 
plan.  Vi,  as  you  know,  was  visiting  me  at 
the  time,  and  we  had  talked  it  over,  trying  to 
think  of  some  way  to  thwart  his  scheme. 
Finally  Vi  suggested  that  I  get  his  money  and 
hide  it  so  that  father  could  not  continue  this 
course.  We  decided  that  it  was  best  to  do 
this ;  so  after  Vi  and  her  brother  had  gone  that 
night  I  got  up,  slipped  on  my  Persian  jacket, 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       233 

and  went  down  to  father's  office,  thinking  he 
was  in  bed.  Opening  the  door,  I  saw  he  was 
still  in  his  office,  asleep  at  his  desk.  I  crept 
in,  searched  the  drawers,  and  found  the  roll  of 
bills.  Father  awoke  just  as  I  was  leaving  the 
room.  A  scene  ensued  in  which  I  remon- 
strated with  him  for  exploiting  his  scheme  by 
advertising.  He  became  insanely  angry,  and 
rushed  at  me,  clutching  at  my  jacket  in  his 
frenzy.  I  left  in  a  panic  of  fear,  for  his  anger 
was  terrifying.  Reaching  my  room,  I  locked 
the  door  and  hid  the  money.  He  did  not 
know  I  had  taken  it.  It  was  then  that  I  dis- 
covered he  had  torn  the  tassel  from  my  jacket 
in  his  impotent  rage  against  me.  The  next 
morning  Phyllis  came  rushing  to  tell  me  that 
the  house  was  on  fire  and  that  father  was  dead, 
— murdered.  I  went  to  Vi's,  taking  the 
money  with  me,  and  gave  it  to  her  for  safe 
keeping.  She  promised  to  deposit  it  in  a 
bank  for  me,  as  I  was  not  in  a  condition  to  de- 
posit it  myself.  You  can  understand  the 
strain  I  was  under,  Clarke, — fearing  the  tassel 
would  be  found  by  the  police.  As  the  days 
passed  I  gradually  became  calmer  and  decided 
I  had  nothing  to  fear.  I  could  not  marry  you 
with  th^  shadow  hanging  over  me,  and  I  did 
not  want  to  tell  you  all  this." 


234       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

"Janet,"  I  remonstrated  quickly,  "did  you 
think  I  was  so  unworthy  of  your  confidence?" 

"Not  unworthy,  Clarke;  but  I  was  afraid — 
I  did  not  know  how  you  would  receive  it. 
Over  three  years  ago  I  discovered  that  father 
was  not  mentally  responsible,  and  that  he 
would  attempt  to  carry  out  his  scheme  as  soon 
as  he  had  accumulated  the  necessary  money. 
So  I  set  out  to  accumulate  an  equal  amount  to 
prevent  his  carrying  out  his  plan.  My  inten- 
tion was  to  buy  off  the  man  whom  father 
should  finally  persuade  to  enter  into  his 
scheme.  I  worked  hard  for  three  years,  but 
father  secured  the  amount  quicker  than  I. 
Obsessed  with  the  one  idea,  I  wrote  hundreds, 
— yes,  hundreds, — of  stories.  Many  I  have 
sold, — novels,  poems,  short  stories, — for  ex- 
orbitant sums,  but  always  under  a  nom  de 
plume." 

"Janet!"  I  said  in  amazement. 

"Don't,  Clarke.  Wait;  ask  me  questions 
after  I  have  finished.  I  lived  in  a  dream  in 
which  ten  thousand  dollars  was  the  rainbow's 
end,  but  even  in  the  dream  I  could  not  reach 
it."  She  stopped,  breathing  hard,  then  smil- 
ing slightly  said  with  a  little  quiver  in  her 
voice : 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL       235 

"Of  course  you  know  I  am  Douglas 
White." 

"Janet!"  I  cried.  "Do  you  know  what  this 
means  to  me?  I  have  loved  Douglas  White 
as  a  man  and  as  a  writer  whose  soul  had  kin- 
ship with  mine.  You  and  I  must  have  met 
and  loved  long  before  this  world  began.  How 
strange  it  all  is!  Yet  I  did  not  know.  It 
must  have  been  you  who  sent  me  the  manu- 
script, 'Inspiration.'  ' 

She  laughed, — a  bright,  rippling  laugh,  like 
the  music  of  white  pebbles  washed  by  the  lim- 
pid stream.  "Oh,  I  did  work  so  hard  to  finish 
it,  Clarke!  I  stayed  up  half  the  night  after 
you  left.  I  was  so  afraid  I  could  not  help  you 
out  at  first,  but  when  I  learned  you  had  until 
the  next  afternoon  I  felt  sure  I  could.  I  fin- 
ished it  by  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  had  it 
beautifully  copied  on  the  typewriter  by  the 
afternoon,  then  sent  it  off  by  a  boy  who  does 
all  my  messenger  work."  Again  she  laughed 
lightly. 

"I  suppose  you  also  sent  the  manuscript 
that  Bennett  received  some  time  ago?" 

"Yes ;  but  I  had  sent  it  before,  asking  quite 
a  large  sum  for  it.  One  Saturday  Vi  told  me 
of  the  Favorite  Magazine,  saying  that  her 


236       THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

brother  was  its  editor  and  owner  and  that  he 
was  having  a  hard  time  in  meeting  its  ex- 
penses. I  had  previously  confessed  to  Vi  the 
reason  for  my  anonymous  writings.  I  sent 
the  story  immediately,  saying  he  could  have  it 
gratis,  and  it  reached  him  Monday  morning. 
I  wished  to  help  him  on  Vi's  account,  although 
when  I  sent  him  the  manuscript  I  had  never 
met  him." 

Everything  was  plain  to  me  now.  I  began 
to  understand  Vi's  strange  actions  when  I  dis- 
cussed the  missing  ten  thousand  dollars  the 
day  after  the  tragedy.  I  understood  why  Vi 
had  swung  abruptly  to  the  piano  the  evening 
I  had  begun  to  discuss  Douglas  White.  At 
the  time  it  seemed  strange,  but  now  I  remem- 
bered the  smile  I  had  seen  hovering  upon  her 
lips. 

"Janet,"  I  said,  "some  of  the  things  con- 
nected with  all  this  are  humorous,  others  are 
not.  Tell  me  about  the  abduction." 

"I  can  tell  you  little,  Clarke,  that  I  have  not 
already  told  you.  I  was  walking  to  the  corner 
to  mail  my  letter  to  Phyllis  when  some  one 
seized  me  from  behind  and  put  a  handkerchief 
saturated  with  something  over  my  face.  I 
knew  nothing  more  until  I  came  to  myself 
again  in  the  house  on  Twelfth  Street." 


THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL        237 

"Why  were  you  liberated,  Janet?" 

"For  money.  I  was  to  divulge  the  where- 
abouts of  the  ten  thousand  dollars.  I  had 
given  it  to  Vi,  who  had  deposited  it  in  a  bank, 
so  I  misled  them.  I  told  them  they  would 
find  it  under  a  corner  of  the  carpet  in  father's 
office  in  Shetland.  I  knew  that  that  particu- 
lar corner  of  the  room  had  been  destroyed  by 
fire. 

"Evidently  the  thieves  searched  Vi's  board- 
ing-house that  same  night,  thinking  that  I 
might  have  hidden  the  money  there,  and  was 
trying  to  shield  the  Bennetts  and  save  the  ten 
thousand  dollars." 

"And  now?"  I  hesitated,  almost  afraid  to 
speak. 

"What  is  it,  Clarke?" 

"Will  you  marry  me  now,  Janet?  Answer 
me  that;  if  you  say  'yes'  mv  soul's  sickness  is 
cured,  otherwise — "  I  hesitated. 

"What,  Clarke?" 

I  sighed. 

"And  you  still  wish  to  marry  me,  after — 
after  all— all  that — " 

"Do  you  love  me,  Janet?"  I  was  stern  and 
demanding.  I  took  her  hands  in  mine  and 
looked  deep  into  her  eyes.  The  color 
mounted  to  her  cheeks,  and  a  glow  spread  over 


238        THE  PERSIAN  TASSEL 

her  face;  then  she  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  hardly 
more  than  a  whisper: 

"I  adore  you!" 

I  clasped  her  to  me,  pressed  her  head  back, 
and  placed  my  lips  upon  hers. 


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